The Master (The Game Maker 2)

But he was in agony too. His cock was swollen, veins and shaft bulging. I sensed he was just preventing himself from yanking the wand out of his way and plunging into me to end this.

I caught his gaze, pleading with mine. "L-let's both come, Maxim. I'll be good. Por favor, mi amor?"

He rasped, "You are utter sweetness, aren't you?" He traced the edge of the bulb, soaked from my pussy, then offered his finger to my mouth.

I met his eyes as I sucked it lovingly.

"Utter--fucking--sweetness." He returned his finger to the bulb, then back to my lips. He kissed me at the same time, both of our tongues twining his finger--a wet, filthy kiss to trade my cream between us.

Another orgasm struck. "Mmmm!" I screamed against his lips. I had to break away as I writhed, my limbs snatching at my bonds.

"Stunning." His breaths came even quicker, sweat lathering his own skin. "Now, what do you have to tell me, baby?"

"I can't!"

"Tell me why you can't. Or tell me yes."

"No! No! No!"

"Very well." He rose on his knees, reaching for the clamps.

"Oh, wait, wait!" I wriggled my chest, but he caught me by the breast. I shook my head wildly.

"This will hurt." He gradually released one clamp.

Blood rushed back to the peak. Currents of pain sizzled up and down my body. I went light-headed, almost passing out.

"Stay with me, Katya."

My nipple was engorged, more sensitive than it'd ever been. "Ah! N-not the other! I can't take it, you devil!"

He was merciless, hand poised over the clamp. "Tell me what I want to hear. No?" He eased the metal apart.

"No . . . leave it . . . don't!" Too late; he'd removed it. My nipples felt like they'd been branded. I babbled in two languages. I arched toward him, shoving the aching peaks at him for succor, for anything! "Please, PLEASE!"

"Do you need something from me, dushen'ka? I understand the feeling. I need you to say yes."

Before I gathered my wits enough to curse him, he dialed up the wand. Then he leaned down and blew on my nipples.

I shrieked and my eyes rolled back in my head . . . as I came and came and came for him. . . .

When I could focus my eyesight again, I saw him above me. His neck and chest muscles flexed, his skin sheening with sweat.

He spread his knees and began to jack his cock. "You like to watch me, don't you?"

This vision of him only increased my agony--as he well knew. "Can't--no more--por favor."

His legs quaked as he fucked his fist. With his other hand, he cupped his heavy sac, kneading it roughly. "Be a good girl, and tell me what I want to hear." He released his balls to reach for the wand. "Don't make me do this, baby."

"N-no, por favor!"

"Then tell me! Why are you so bloody determined?"

"Maxim, why do you push me??"

"Woman, you will tell--me--why!"

"Because!"

"Because why? Damn it, answer me!"

"When this ends, I want to be left in one piece!" There. I'd said it.

"Your heart in one piece?" His gaze was almost inhuman, his piercing blue eyes full of fire. "Too fucking late. You might as well enjoy the fall." The crash. He turned the dial up to the highest level.

Instant orgasm.

Relentless.

Bone-melting.

As my back bowed sharply, I screamed, "YES! I-I'll go! I'LL GO WITH YOU!"

My words were cut off by his brutal yell. He began to ejaculate, pumping semen over me.

I screamed louder as his hot cum landed like a whip over my body. He striped lashes across my belly, my toy and swollen lips, both of my breasts. My abused nipples. As I writhed beneath him, semen pooled in the dip of my collarbone and mixed with my sweat. "Mercy!"

He lunged for the wand's cord, yanking it from the socket, then collapsed over me.

Between heaving breaths, he said, "We leave the morning of the twenty-eighth, Katya. You have shopping to do."

CHAPTER 26

After selecting several pieces of jewelry, including pearl earrings to go with my necklace, I vacillated over a gold pair that were crazy expensive--as in could also buy a luxury sports car expensive. They were dangly, with the tiniest padlocks and keys at the ends.

The older male jeweler polished his glasses and said, "Take your time, dear."

Today, while Sevastyan had been making last-minute tweaks to security for his brother's wedding (how much security could one wedding need?), he'd had vendors come to the hotel. "I know you loathe shopping," he'd told me, "but you'll have to suck it up." So said the king.

After I'd been persuaded to attend the wedding, I'd done a risk/reward analysis. Reward: more life-changing sex, traveling, seeing snow for the first time. I would get to meet his family and friends and learn more about him. I wondered how he would introduce me, how he would act around others.

Risk: the crash. Yet I'd worked to convince myself that I couldn't possibly fall so quickly. A little over a week? It was crazy even to think about! Right? I could go, enjoy the wedding, and my heart would be just swell.

In any case, I had no choice about attending; to bad weather . . .

This jeweler was the last of the vendors left. He'd displayed his wares across the long dining room table, atop a roll of black velvet. Earlier, Sevastyan had strode by on his way to the study. "She'll take them." He'd waved at the entire collection.

I hastily assured the jeweler, "He's joking!"

"Of course, dear," the man had said, but we both knew Sevastyan had not been joking.

At Maxim's insistence, I'd filled two closets. When the stores came to you, shopping was a completely different experience. I had more shoes than I could count, luggage, boots, skirts, blouses, sweaters, snow gear, purses, an unforgettable full-length dress for the night wedding--and drawers of lingerie.

Trying on bras had been a chore because of what he'd done to me the night before. This morning, my nipples had remained swollen, and my body had felt battered. To get through my run, I'd had to pop Advil and tape my nipples with Band-Aids. Sevastyan had watched me running again (avidly, a lion to my gazelle). Once I'd finished, he hadn't even waited for me to pass the bed; he'd nabbed me directly off the treadmill, forcing my legs around his waist. He'd tugged up my bra, asking, "What's this?"

"Tape." I'd gasped as he yanked my shorts aside and thrust into me. "They're t-too sensitive."

"You poor thing," he'd said, but his eyes had been gleaming.

Throughout the day he'd pulled me into our room to kiss them better--sweet, gentle kisses all around my nipples. Which had just made them worse!

To add insult to injury, he'd taunted me with his mirror message. I'd last written about the door hitting my ass on the way out. His reply?

How far will you get tied to my bed?

Fucking devil! I'd replied: Baby boy, all the way to Nebraska.

The mirror was huge, but we were already running out of room.

Now he returned from the study, ending a phone call. "What's the hold up?" he asked me.

The money you're spending! Keeping a tally had been challenging since there were no price tags, and I had to ask each time. But I could swear he'd spent close to--I swallowed--half a million d

ollars on me. Whenever that figure had robbed me of breath, I'd imagined his outlay as a teeny-tiny percentage of his wealth. Everything was relative, right?

Sevastyan's gaze flicked over the earrings, and that gleam returned. He told the jeweler, "She'll absolutely take those. . . ."

Once the man had gone, Maxim said, "I've seen your take for the day. Your results were meager."

"Por el amor de Dios. Seriously?"

"If you don't dress to the nines, it reflects upon me. You'll begin again tomorrow morning."

"Maxim, I don't need this much! And I'm worried about your spending. If you make a market return on your billion, then you've spent more than you earned today."

In the same tone I often used with him, he said, "Ah, does my baby girl think I only have a billion liquid?"

My jaw dropped. Unreported mafiya income. Then I burst out laughing. "I like your sense of humor."

"I have one?"

"You bring down my house." I petted his chest. "I can't shop tomorrow anyway. I have a date with this Russian guy."

Raised brows. "Oh, do you?"

"He's really rich, so he's taking the day off to play with me."

His eyes grew lively. "What are you two going to do?"

"Spend the afternoon by the pool, grilling out on the deck. Later, he'll take me running on the beach. I'm making margaritas. And more turron. He's like a bear after honey with that stuff--"

Maxim swooped me into his arms and strode for the bedroom. "Fine. You're excused from shopping." He reached around and spanked my ass while I squealed. "I won't buy you another bloody thing--it's so goddamned unpleasant."

I wriggled. "What are you going to do to me?"

"All this talk about turron and honey has my mouth watering for my favorite treat. . . ."

A couple of hours later, I'd been grinning, stretching on the bed when he'd tossed me a wrapped present.

"What is it?" I tore into it. I swallowed.

He'd gotten me . . .

A red scarf.

"I can't believe I'm going to see snow!" I said when Maxim's jet was forty thousand feet over central Florida. I smoothed my fawn-colored skirt behind me, then sat beside him on one of the decadent leather couches. "I will, right?"

From behind a business journal, he said, "If I had a dollar for every time you checked the forecast . . . I vow to you that there will be plenty of snow. If there's not, I'll have some made."

"It blows my mind that we're going from a play-date in the sun to Nebraskan winter."