The Master (The Game Maker 2)

"You little witch!"

"You fucking devil!"

When Sevastyan returned just two hours later, we collided in our haste to grapple each other, kissing, both of us snatching at his clothes.

Before he'd left, he'd added a short, fat dildo to the strap of my belt. It didn't go deep enough to get me off, just far enough to make me crazed.

Against my lips, he bit out, "Couldn't think of anything but this."

"You didn't warn me what that dildo would do to me!"

"Cut my bloody meetings short." His accent was thicker than I'd ever heard it. He kicked his shoes off. When he yanked at his socks, I almost strangled him with his tie.

"I rolled on your bed in agony, trying to come from pinching my nipples."

He groaned as he sucked my bottom lip. "I nearly jerked off in a bathroom stall."

"I humped your pillow for a solid hour."

"Fuck!" With his shirt over his head, he ordered, "Get my goddamned pants off!" I yanked them down his legs. When I saw the wet circle on his gray boxer briefs, I shivered, tugging them down too.

Naked, he grabbed the key and reached for my shaking body. Once he'd unlocked me, he eased the dildo from inside me, then tossed the belt to the bed. My fingers flew to my aching pussy; his did too. We met gazes, both stunned at how wet and swollen I was.

He raised a shaking hand to his mouth. As he licked his fingers, his cock pulsed, bobbing on its own, straining for my flared lips. Moisture slicked the head. I reached for him, rubbing it with my thumb.

"Witch." His fingers returned for a second helping.

"Devil," I gasped, panting for him.

"Tell me you don't need to be owned."

"As soon as you do. I wore your lock. But you wore my key, didn't you? How many times today did you touch it?" I grabbed his dick, leading him to the bed, which clearly thrilled him.

But then his big hands covered my hips to lift me off the floor. He tossed me onto the mattress, as if I weighed nothing. Standing beside the bed, he grabbed my ankles, pulling me toward him till my ass was at the edge. "Spread for me."

I drew my knees up, letting them fall wide. My hands dipped between my legs, my fingers parting my lips until cold air tickled me inside. "Is this where you want to be, querido?"

He shuddered with need, and his voice broke lower as he grated, "Your pussy is krasavitza. Beautiful. Tell me it's all mine."

I couldn't catch my breath. "It's all yours." I moaned when he fitted his cockhead against my opening.

As the crown nudged, I undulated on the tip. I could come like this. In a few seconds, I would. I'd been tormented, driven mad for sex. His cock--searing and pulsating and ready to pleasure--was heaven compared to that dildo. "Don't make me wait, Ruso!"

"Play with your tits for me. Pinch those plump nipples some more."

I cupped my breasts, tweaking my tender nipples, arching to my own touch.

He made that growling sound that drove me wild. "Look at you." His hooded gaze raked over me. "There is no such thing as your body." He clamped his big hands around my ankles, raising my straight legs in a V. He ran his face against my calf, then kissed my inner ankle.

I moaned with wonder, had never known how sensitive the skin was there.

Then he bent his legs, as if he were about to lift something--or shove into me with more leverage than ever before.

I swallowed. "You're going to fuck me with all your might?" Anticipation made my toes curl.

"I am. And you're going to take it." His big body surged forward, ramming his cock into me to the hilt. "Uhhhn!"

I cried out, "Ah, Maxim!"

"Baby?" he groaned. "Already?"

As pleasure exploded inside me, my cry pitched to a scream. "Oh, my God!" My core-deep tremors clenched him.

"Feel you!" He gnashed his teeth. "About to . . . follow you." He stopped thrusting, instead grinding between my legs, stirring his cock.

As I moaned and writhed, he drew out every wave for me, sending me soaring again and again. Slowly, I came back down. Through heavy-lidded eyes, I watched him struggling to hold back his cum.

His muscles rippled, his grip on my ankles constricting. "When you come, I need to thrust into that grip. . . ." He trailed off, as if just talking about it would set him off. He shuddered, and his dampening torso flexed against the backs of my thighs.

He shook his head hard. Tense moments passed before he regained control. I could swear I almost felt his semen receding down his length.

"You didn't ask permission, Katya." He brought my legs together, coiling his arm around them. He lifted me bodily, till my pussy was the same height as his cock. Only my shoulders and head touched the bed.

When he'd positioned me how he wanted me, he pulled his shaft out to the tip, then used his entire body to shove back in. Over. And over. His groin slapped my raised ass with each assault.

Blood rushed to my head, my arms falling back. I could do nothing more than lie there and take his lusts. Could only receive and accept and feel. Shivers broke out over me, and I stretched back, euphoric.

He rasped, "You're smiling, beauty. You're enjoying your fucking?" His hips were like a piston! "Does my cock make you happy?"

I moaned, "Yes." The motion and my helplessness, his intensity and the sight of his muscles toiling--all combined to return me to the brink. I tried to arch into his movements, hastening my orgasm.

"You're about to come again? Ask me for permission, Katya!"

I thrashed my head. "No!"

With a brutal shove, he commanded me, "Ask me the goddamned question!"

"I'll ask, I'll ask . . . How many times did you touch that key today?"

"Disobedient witch!" To punish me, he hauled up on my legs and gave me his hardest thrust yet.

"MAXIM!" I hurtled over the edge. White-hot bliss shattered me, radiating through every inch of my body. With each spasm, my pussy convulsed around his shaft, beckoning him once more to follow my pleasure.

"AHH! You're fucking wringing it from me! Can't resist you this time! You'll have it from me--"

His back bowed sharply, his torso muscles straining. He threw back his he

ad to yell, "Katya!"

Semen shot so forcefully into my sheath, I whimpered; liquid heat bathed it like a balm. I watched his violent throes, spellbound by the chiseled planes of his body, those whipcord tendons. His hoarse bellows erupted from his chest and boomed off the walls.

Rocked by what had just occurred, I stared at him and breathed his name.

But once our orgasms subsided, he started to move again, still erect as he plunged into our mingled cum. He was just getting warmed up.

He lowered the weight of his body over me, pressing my knees into my chest. Gaze boring into mine, he said, "I touched that key constantly."

CHAPTER 19

On the fifth day of my luxury incarceration, the hotel cleaning girl smuggled in a burner phone from Ivanna. Luckily, Sevastyan was away for business.

I called Ivanna at once. "I could kiss you!"

"So it's true? Sevastyan won't let you make calls?"

"He's holding me prisoner." With a permanent marker from the study, I'd drawn five slashes on the mirror above his sink, as though counting down days in prison. Sevastyan had been pissed: "Other women would kill to be in your position!"

Wearing a T-shirt, with nothing to do, and locked in chastity?

He'd put me in the belt again this morning. Then he'd assured me he would make it through all his meetings, and he would not return before sunset. He hadn't realized that he fingered the key around his neck even as he spoke.

Ivanna asked, "What happened to cause your, er, imprisonment?"

"He's totally paranoid! He thinks I tried to trap him by getting pregnant." He still thought that.

"Why on earth?"

I cleared my throat. "Because we had unprotected sex when I was close to ovulating, and I'm not on birth control. Yet. I admit, it does sound bad, but I would never trap anyone. I'd never had that much champagne before--I was crazy drunk." I r ubbed my temples. "I didn't specifically tell him he could come in me, but I didn't tell him he couldn't either."

"It's okay, Cat. I have many escort friends who've 'accidentally' had a condom break--after they ran a pin through the client's condom packs."

"En serio? That's sick."

"It's not common, but when you reach my age, and you realize you only have two or three good years left . . . It's not as if I've been going to trade school, or saving up a pension. If I don't wed a wealthy man, I'll have to live off my savings--instead of bringing my family over."