His Little Secret

My ears are ringing. Oxygen has vacated my lungs.

Mase’s full weight is pinning me down, his shaft thick and pulsing inside of me and the pressure in my lower belly is almost too much to bear. I scrape my fingernails down his hips and push, trying to get him off, but it’s futile. I’m a mouse trying to move a mountain.

“I’m sorry,” he exhales against my ear, the muscles of his abdomen jumping, hollowing, a hungering rumble building in his chest. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Ripley. I tried not to be rough. I’ve just been suffering so long. And you’re so wet and warm and…God, baby. Tight.”

“It’s okay,” I whimper, without thinking, my thoughts scattered like buckshot. “It’s okay, Uncle Mase. It already feels better.”

The scarred giant on top of me freezes.

For long moments, there’s not a single sound in the room except for my pounding heart.

Oh boy. Okay. I was going to reveal myself sooner or later. Maybe I didn’t really ease into it, the way I’d planned, but I’m quickly realizing there is no way to ease into this.

My mask is ripped off, revealing Mase’s livid face looming over me.

“Ripley?” he growls, crumpling the mask in his shaking fist. Shock holds his features hostage as he looks down between our bodies at the place where they lock together. “Goddammit. What the hell did you do?”

This is the problem with being a troublemaker. I’m able to convince myself my actions are benefitting the greater good. I never see the flaws in my plan until it has been executed and then, whoosh, there’s that pesky error, blinking like a neon sign. What if this doesn’t work? What if my subterfuge actually drives him further away than before? “I’ve wanted you, too,” I whisper shakily, panic spearing me. “You were being too noble a-and—”

“And now I’m raw dogging my virgin niece in a fucking brothel.” His hand comes up and wraps around my throat, lines of strain appearing around his mouth. Those long, blunt fingers flex and quick bursts of breath fall from his mouth, as if it’s taking every ounce of his willpower not to move. He is moving, though. Inside of me, his huge sex beats in a low, hungry rhythm, still continuing to grow, pressing impossibly deeper. “You went too far this time, Ripley,” he chokes out, tightening his grip around my throat. “You’re meant for better than this.”

“No,” I whisper, stroking my palms over the meat of his pectorals. “I’m meant for you. If that wasn’t true, you wouldn’t need a picture of me to—”

“Shut your perfect mouth.” His head drops forward, shoulders starting to heave. “I’m trying to make myself pull out, but you’re gripping me so tight.” His groan vibrates through me. “God. You feel so good.”

“Don’t stop, Uncle Mase.”

“I have to stop, dammit,” he pants.

The pain has almost completely fled me at this point and now there’s a thrum in my lower body that matches the throb of his manhood. My muscles have stretched to fit him and now they fix around him almost lovingly, contracting and releasing involuntarily. “Ripley,” he pleads hoarsely, his hand still banded around my throat. “Ahhh, Christ, what an eager cunt you’ve got, sweetheart. Make it stop teasing me.”

“No.” I pull my knees up, settling them against his expanding ribcage. The move causes him to sink deeper and he grits a roar in response, his hand leaving my throat to brace himself on the headboard. “Can’t you move a little?” I murmur, threading my fingertips through his black, curling chest hair. “Just to show me what it feels like?”

A shudder wracks his large frame and I hear the headboard creak in his grasp. “I move once and it’s on. I won’t stop until your little pink pussy is sloppy with come.”

I’ve forgotten my regrets over being deceptive. I can’t think of anything now but giving myself to this man the way I’ve always dreamed. He needs me. There is a picture of me two inches from my head, for chrissakes. If that isn’t proof that he needs me as much as I need him, nothing is. I want Mase to lose himself in me. Lose his reservations. I want to show him with my body and this offering of my virginity that there is no one better. No one I’d rather have touch my body. Possess it.

Biting my lower lip and watching him through my lashes, I writhe my hips side to side, lifting them as much as I can with Mase’s heavy body pinning me down. His jaw loosens as I wiggle and strain, his eyes losing focus. “Show me what it feels like to be a woman,” I whisper, arching my back, bringing my breasts inches from his mouth. “Show me.”

“A woman?” His laugh is dark and out of breath as he glances over at the photograph. “You’re barely that. The things I’ve thought of doing to you, Ripley? They never should have let me out of prison.”