Sexy as Hell Box Set (85 page)

“No, keep it on, please, the mask. I know it’s not a pig, but I need the mask.”

He dropped his hand then reached out and stroked my hair. “Okay, we can do this, Zara.” He paused. “I want you to hand yourself over to me, your Master, and I’ll make this a pleasurable, erotic experience.” He held his hand up between us, his fist balled. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Yes, but like this,” I said, unfurling his fingers, making them pointed and flat, like a duck’s bill.

He nodded and then reached for the hem of my dress, wriggling it up so it sat belt-like around my hips. “Is this right?”

“Yes, that’s it.”

That was all they’d done, shoved at my skirt and yanked off my knickers. Ugly pig face had then pulled my legs apart and sat between them.

But Victor didn’t yank at my knickers. Instead, he rolled them down my legs, squatting before me as he did so and smoothing his palms along my thighs, my knees and then my shins. Victor touched me like he adored every inch of my skin. As though each caress was the first one he’d enjoyed and he wanted to remember it forever.

A tug in my chest reminded me that I loved him. And in that moment, watching him lift first one and then the other of my feet and loop the small scrap of lace that was my underwear off, I realised just how much. He really was willing to do anything for me. He would be my demon and my saviour, my devil and my angel.

How many men in the world would or could be those combinations?

I was a lucky girl.

I touched his hair but then gasped as he dragged me close and plopped me onto the bed. My arms and legs flailed, but his grip around me was unyielding.

Staring up at his mask, I had a sudden urge to forget about exorcising my ghosts. Perhaps we should just fuck. Victor in his Master role always did it for me—not that I’d had too many chances to enjoy it, but he was here now. The set of his shoulders, the tension in his muscles, the swift
, sudden urgency of his movements all let me know he meant business.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, “and I’m going to make you beautiful on the inside too. You just have to let me.”

“I bet you can’t,” I said.

“Bet I can’t what?”

I hesitated. “Get your whole hand inside me.”

“I bet I can, and what’s more, I’m going to make it feel fucking fantastic.” He didn’t miss a beat. I had to give it to him, he could play me well. Tangle my memories with his words and re-weave them in a way that had me creaming for him to start.

He gripped my inner thighs, pushed them wide then sat between them.

He stared at my displayed pussy, no doubt shining now with want, expectation, trepidation. It was strange, not seeing his expression and the look of hunger that would normally be
on his face when he gazed at my cunt.

“Ah, yeah,” he said. “Little and tight and all mine. And you can’t go anywhere, you’re here with me.”

“Yes,” I said, overwhelmingly glad all of a sudden, that I was in this small room in some old Venetian building with Victor and finally facing my monsters. “Please.” I shifted my hips, the buzz in my clit almost unbearable. I was excited, turned the hell on.

Victor was really going to do this.

Zara’s pussy was damp and spread before me, her labia moist with want, her entrance a small, rosy hole inviting me in. But my hand? Really?

I’d said I would go along with it, but I wasn’t as sure as I’d sounded. She felt pretty snug down there when I fucked her, and my cock was not as thick as my whole hand.

Her scent wafted upwards. Musky and spiced, the smell made my dick go from a semi to a full hard-on in seconds. Everything about Zara turned me on. Even when she pushed me to my limits and made me question my sanity.

I drew my attention to her mask, wishing to heck and back that I could see her face. But that wasn’t the deal, or was it?

“Your mask,” I said, “take it off. I need to see you.”

“But I—”

“You didn’t wear a mask in the shed, you don’t need one now.” I used my best Master voice. Taking the decision from her—or so I hoped.

For a second I didn’t think she
’d obey, but then she lifted her hands and took off the mask, set it on the small table she could just reach. Her cheeks were glowing, her lips looked freshly licked, and her eyes, they sparkled with desire.

Did she desire me? Did she desire my
hand? Or did she desire me to fight her past?

I guessed it was a combination of all three—at least I hoped it was.

Carefully, I slid my fingers over her pussy, spreading her juice and then circling her clit. She arched on the bed, shifted her hips and murmured my name.

I reached for the lube, smothered her rippling folds with it, smiling behind my mask when she gasped at the coldness. She was so soft, like liquid silk, and warm, too, blood temperature. I pushed one finger inside her, exploring the ridges and pillows of her entrance.

My mouth watered. I’d never truly got to taste her, to lap at her flavour—one swift lick did not make an oral session in my book. Since I’d refused to that one time it had been off the menu.

“Victor, talk to me,” she said. “I need to hear your voice.”

“I love you,” I said. “Let me inside you, let me make you feel good and full and like you can never get me out of your mind, body and soul.” I added another finger, worked lube into her and over my hand.

Small squelching noises filled the room. Zara groaned and shut her eyes.

“You feel so perfect,” I said, “hot and warm and tight and as though you’ve been made especially to fit me. In fact, I believe you were, Zara Watson, made just for me, that is. Everything about you is in tune with me. Our lives were meant to cross, twine together, it was set out in the stars many years ago that this is where we’d be tonight.”

“With you about to…?”

“Yes, with me about to do this.” She was supple now, her pussy taking three fingers easily, and she was wet—dripping, sopping wet.

I shifted, my cock so swollen it ached and strained against my zip.

“Yes, yes,” she said, slipping her hand down and fretting her clit.

“No,” I said. “That’s not for you to do.” I pushed her hand away and set my index and middle finger
of my free hand over her clit, pressed, not too hard, just enough to make her groan. I then rubbed, very gently, knowing it would set her on a slow burn to desperation.

I created the same pointed shape with my fingers she’d shown me and began to press into her pussy. Slowly, gently, small thrusting movements that claimed a little more depth each time.

“That’s it, baby, you’re doing so well, taking me, inviting me in,” I said. “Zara, look at me, see where we are, who you’re with.”

She opened her eyes, stared at me. At my mask.

“Who do you see?” I asked.

“You, Victor, wearing a mask.”

“That’s right, it’s me, the man who loves you. Now just relax some more, take me in.”

She was so warm and lush, stretching around my hand. I was knuckle deep now, her tender pink flesh stretched taut.

“Oh, God,” she said, a quiver attacking her belly and trembling through her mound.

I kept up my firm pressure on her clit.

“Is it feeling good?” I asked, sending a quick prayer heavenward that it was.

“Yes, oh, Master, yes, I’m yours.”

“And I’m yours, this is how it is now. Me and you, no one else.”

She blew out a long, low breath, and I
was aware of some give, took advantage and forced my hand into her. My knuckles disappeared; I could feel her cervix, smooth and hard on my fingertips, the walls of her entrance clamping around me.

“Ah, ah…” she panted.

“That’s it, fight those demons. Take pleasure from me owning you this way.” Damn, I didn’t think she could stretch much more, her pussy was so extended.

“Give me more, Victor. I want more from you, more than they gave me, please.”

“Does it feel nice?” I had to ask.

“Yes, fuck yes, it feels incredible. Oh, and what…oh, fuck, what you’re doing to my clit, too, at the same time… Please, Victor, give me more, give me it all.”

“You want me to push in?”

“Yes.” She thrashed her head from side to side, reached for her breasts and squeezed them roughly through her dress. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Fuck, it was working. I was sure it was. Glad the lube had seeped to my wrist, I pushed in further. Her insides shifted to accommodate me, and blistering heat, unbelievable tightness, surrounded my hand.

“Victor,” she cried out. “Oh, Victor, fuck…” She was staring straight at me, wide-eyed and slack-mouthed.

I could take it no more. I yanked at my mask, flung it to the floor then dropped my mouth over her clit. Suckled, laved, pulled her swollen bead onto my tongue.

Even when I’d been in her arse or her pussy with my cock, I’d never felt as in her as I did now.

Her body jerked, my hand moving with the canting of her hips.

“Ah, oh, fuck, please, I don’t know if I can…” she cried.

She didn’t know if she could orgasm with my hand in her? She could. I knew damn well she could because I’d hold her together, like I had that other time.

“Come,” I said, pausing in my lapping. “Come and trust me to be here with you, loving you, adoring you.”

“Oh, but…” She stared down at me, released one breast and jammed her fingers into my hair. “But, Victor, you don’t know… I don’t know if I can…”

She didn’t finish, so I didn’t press. Now was a time for action, not words. She was close, so close. I worked her up, felt her tense, freeze, teeter on the cliff of ecstasy.

Still I kept going, circling the tip of my tongue over her clit. She grabbed in a breath, held it deep and then toppled into bliss with an ethereal wail.

He pussy hammered around my hand, a long sequence of powerful contractions that threatened to stop the blood supply to my fingers—so hard, so potent, a violent force.

She wailed again. Bucked. Lifted off the bed.

I carried on laving at her clit with the flat of my tongue. Staying with her, taking her through to the completion of her orgasm. Riding the wave. But still her internal muscles clamped around me, the force that had seized her not abating.

I slipped my free hand to her lower back, supported her torso, squeezed her close. I was aware of her legs fastening around my shoulders, bracketing me into her.

“Oh, it’s so much, too much,” she
sobbed, gripping my hair, yanking it to the point of pain.

I was sure she’d removed several clumps but I didn’t care. I kept on worshipping her clit.

As wild as it had been, she stilled suddenly. Her legs relaxed and her hold on my hair slackened. Quivers and tremors still held her pussy hostage, and I felt every single wonderful one of them as I finally lifted my face from her.

She blew out a long breath; it held a pleasure-soaked sigh and the sound gave me a warm feeling in my chest. Her back relaxed against my embrace, falling heavy on my arm, and I licked my lips, revelling in her delicious flavour.

Carefully I withdrew my hand, slowly, allowing her pussy to close in its wake. I then kissed her entrance, her small folds of skin, circled my tongue over her clit again and dropped a lingering kiss to her bare mound.

“Victor,” she gasped. “Victor. Oh, my God.”

I moved over her, gathered her into my arms and tucked her face into my neck. “Shh,” I whispered, tangling our legs. “Shh, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

She shook and trembled. I held her tighter. Had I gone too far? She hadn’t asked me to make her come, only that I put my
hand in her. Perhaps I shouldn’t have. Maybe that had caused her more trauma than what I was trying to fix.

“Are you all right?” I asked, kissing her hair,
swiping the lube off my hand onto my trousers then smoothing her hair.

She lifted her face from my neck and stroked her finger down my cheek. “Yes, that was perfect. How did you know?”

“Know what?”

“That an orgasm while being so full, of you, was just what I needed to get rid of Conner’s memory.”

“I didn’t, I just remembered you saying they never let you come. Like in the shed, turning these extreme experiences into pleasure has to be the way to go.”

She pressed her lips to mine
then eased back and dragged in a shaky breath. “It was incredible. Intense and mind-altering. I thought I might break your fingers I came so hard.”

I smiled. “I’m tougher than you think.”

“But it was like my pussy had no room to contract through my climax. I was so full, spread so wide, jam-packed full of you.” She shook her head. “It’s not an everyday of the week treat, but my God, a bit of fisting can work wonders for the soul when it’s with the right person.”

We lay there, in each other’s arms. I wasn’t sure if she dozed or not, but her breathing became steady and deep for a while.

I began to cool, wondered about pulling up the blankets.