The Master (The Game Maker 2)

Would he know that I hadn't had sex in forever? Need to distract him. "I'll be this tight around your cock, querido."

He pumped his finger inside me. "Tell me you want it." He laid his free hand over one of my breasts, thumbing a nipple.

"Yes, I want your cock!" My thighs quivered. I tripped toward another orgasm, and he hadn't even touched my clit. I'd never felt so much pleasure with a man; I loved being an escort!

He pinched my other nipple. "Then I won't give it to you yet." He stilled the hand between my legs. "Fuck my finger." Again I sensed a surge of anticipation in him, as if he were a kid with a new toy.

Shameless with need, I began to move against his hand, sending his finger in and out of my pussy. I was already about to levitate when his thumb made contact with my aching clit. "Ummm!"

He rubbed it with slow circles while fingering my core.

My eyes rolled back in my head, and I arched my back, stiffened nipples pointed at the ceiling.

"You're about to come again?" he asked in disbelief. "Look at me."

With difficulty, I raised my head.

"You don't come without my permission."

Que? I had no control.

"Ask me for my permission. Say 'Can I come for you?' "

Confused, I whispered the question.

I didn't realize I'd spoken in Spanish until he rasped, "In English, beautiful girl."

"Can I come for you?"

"Not until I tell you." He wedged another finger into my core, screwing them into my tightness.

The fullness sent me over the edge. "Maxim!" The fire was back, searing every inch of my body. As I thrashed my head, I dimly heard him telling me he could feel my pussy squeezing, that I'd been bad, and he'd punish me for coming without permission.

But all the while he thrust his big fingers and circled his thumb, drawing out my orgasm, forcing me to ride each mindless wave, each delicious spasm. . . .

When he withdrew from me, I moaned with loss, still not sated. For some reason, I was even hornier than when we'd started.

His smoldering gaze raked over my naked body, taking in my glistening pussy, my flushed chest, my swollen breasts--even my hair fanning out wildly from my head. He reached forward, grasping a lock. "You're so fucking sexy," he grated, and immediately frowned, dropping my hair. Was he surprised that he found me sexy--or that he'd told me? "You want me too."

"Want? Estoy desesperada!"

He stood to undress. "Desperate? Don't worry, I'm about to give you what you need." He removed his shoes and socks, then he pulled his sweater over his head.

As he revealed more of his body, I shivered with appreciation. His wide shoulders were muscled, his pecs rigid with dusky nipples, his arms brawny. He had sculpted washboard abs, and a tantalizing black goody trail that I wanted to nuzzle. His tanned skin sported a few raised scars over his chest and arms, but they didn't detract from his hotness.

His expression grew stern. "You disobeyed me. You came without permission."

I stretched my arms over my head, loving his gaze on my tits. "I regret nothing."

He unbuckled his belt, his movements menacing. So why did I feel no fear of this strange man? He snagged a condom from his pocket, then unzipped his slacks. As he worked them over his massive erection, I gasped.

His cock was a work of art. Distended, damp-tipped, with a plum-colored crown and a thick veined shaft. I wished I could explore every inch of it at my leisure. I'd never been a fan of head, but I licked my lips to imagine my tongue flicking that bulbous tip, teasing it. My mouth nursing that length . . .

He stood nude before me, his body the most mouthwatering I'd ever seen. All I could think: Best job ever!!!

He wrapped his big fist around his shaft, giving a stroke that rendered me breathless. More moisture beaded the slit. As he rolled on what had to be an extra-large condom, he said, "Show me what I'm soon to enjoy." There was no mistaking his tone. He'd given me a command.

Beautiful arrogant man.

I would follow his order, but I'd do it my way. I lifted one foot onto the couch back, resting the stiletto heel against the sofa's piping, then let my knees fall wide. I undulated in this position, taunting him with my spread pussy. "How do you like variety now, querido?"

His cock pulsated in his hand, and he muttered something in Russian that sounded like a curse. He returned to the couch, kneeling between my legs. The difference in our sizes struck me. He made me feel tiny and fragile--while he was all hard edges and power.

He leaned over me, using one hand to restrain my wrists over my head. With his other, he gripped his shaft and aimed it. When the crown slipped down my slickened lips, he hissed in a breath. "So fucking wet for me."

As he prodded that broad head, I had my first worry.

I was soaked, but he was big--

He shoved inside to the hilt, yelling with pleasure.

Too big! "Ow! Hold up!" I strained against his grip. "Mierda, give me a minute."

Lips parted, he released my wrists and drew back on his knees, leaving me pinned on his cock. " 'Ow? Hold up?' " This was the second time he'd flashed me that expression of shock/amazement; I termed the look Maximo shockeado. "You're determined to enjoy your fucking?"

I guessed other women had let him shove away. "Let me get used to your size." The fit was so tight that I could feel his dick throbbing with each of his heartbeats. "Can you do that?"

He held himself still, shuddering from the effort. His skin began to dampen with a sheen of sweat. He grated, "Somehow."

Tentatively, I rolled my hips, sending his shaft in and out of me.

In . . . out . . .

In . . . out . . .

In. Out.

In.

Each time I could accept his length more readily, my body accommodating his. Pleasure subdued the pain. My lids grew heavy again.

"Good girl." His gaze was fixed between my legs. "I see you taking me, dushen'ka."

When he leaned over me once more, I threaded my fingers through his thick hair. At my ear, he murmured Russian words, then he took my mouth. He'd liked it when I'd sucked on his tongue, so I did it again--

He growled into our kiss, his hips shooting forward between my legs. It didn't hurt this time, wrenched a moan from me. He withdrew, then sank even deeper. And it was . . .

Increible! I broke away to cry, "Yes, yes! Mas, Maxim!"

Leaning on his forearms, he began to surge into me. His black hair was mussed from my frantic grip, his eyes hooded. He stared down at my face, brows drawn, as if I'd confounded him. "You're making me lose control."

Did I appear as lost to lust as he did? "I don't want you to hold back," I panted, spellbound by him.

His gaze narrowed, as if I'd challenged him--or was giving him lip service. He withdrew, then rammed his hips forward, taking my breath away.

But I loved his strength, his intensity. "That's all you've got, Ruso?"

He went to his knees again and gripped my hips. "That was a warm-up." Seeming to use every muscle in his body, he yanked me close as he shoved. "Uhn!"

I cried out, lifting up to meet his next thrust. He rocked into me; I rolled up to him, the pressure hitting my clit each time. Once the two of us were in sync, our bodies moving together, he pistoned between my legs, railing me as I'd never been fucked before.

Fuck of the century? Try millennium! I was holding on for dear life, hovering on the very verge of orgasm.

"So tight," he grunted, his jaw set as he pounded away.

Ay, Dios mio, he could move! Each time he snatched me to him, his biceps bulged. His pecs flexed, hard slabs of muscle beneath sweat-lathered skin.

Just watching his toiling body pushed me closer to the brink. He enjoyed watching as well, was transfixed by my bouncing breasts.

The tension gathering inside me was about to release--if he kept up those long, deep thrusts. So close . . . so close . . .

Accent thick as gravel, he bit out, "I love your nipples, your tits, your gripping pussy. The way you watch me with those stunning eyes. You like to watch me fuck you?"

"Yes! Maxim, you're going . . . to make me come . . . hard!"

"Fuck. Fuck." He swelled even more, until it was too much! "Can't hold on! My cock's about to explode!" The lines of his face grew tight, as if he were in misery. Then his body stilled.

No, no, no! No, keep moving!

His look of misery vanished, ecstasy lighting his face as he began to ejaculate. He threw back his head and roared to the ceiling, his throat working, tendons bowstring-taut. He gave a brutal stab of his hips, then another, bellowing, "It's . . . so . . . fucking . . . good!"

His shattering thrusts hurtled me over the brink. "Yes, yes, YES!" I screamed, my vision blurring. My back bowed, my tits slipping across his sweating chest.

"Blyad ! I feel you!" As my core clenched him, he bit out, "Your greedy pussy's milking my cock. You'll have every last--ahh!--fucking drop out of me!"

Hot. Wet. Bliss.

Continuing on and on and on . . .

Just when I could take no more, he shoved into me one last time. A long satisfied sound rumbled from his chest. His lids slid shut, and he collapsed over me.

I lay boneless beneath him, my limbs splayed. I moaned when his cock twitched inside me; he groaned when my pussy continued to squeeze his shaft.