“Oh, God…” I moan, repeating these words over and over again as my brain burns. “Come for me, Mason… Come…” I whisper, my muscles finally relaxing. Moving fast, he slides his cock out of my pussy and then in again, building up his rhythm once more. This time there’s nothing gentle or tender about it; he’s doing it for his own pleasure, and only his own.
It doesn’t take him long; a few violent thrusts, a couple of screams from my side, and I start to feel his shaft pulsing violently against my inner walls. Just like that, I feel him gushing his load inside of me, coating my insides in white. I hold my position as he cums, moaning as I feel his warm seed filling me up. Moving slowly, Mason starts to slide his cock out even though he’s still cumming; when it pops out of my ass, it sends thick strands of semen all over my lower back. It drips down my crack and over the curve of my cheeks and, at the same time, I feel it dripping out of my asshole.
Moving fast and without a hint of hesitancy, he places his hands on my ass cheeks, spreads them wide and attacks me with his mouth. I can’t help but moan as I feel his lips on my hole, his tongue jabbing at my insides and scooping up his own semen. When he has licked my asshole dry, he runs his tongue up and down my crack, taking all of the cum he finds there into his mouth. He finally moves down to my pussy, tilting his head sideways and sucking on my inner lips, drying them up as he laps at them with his tongue.
When he finally pulls back from me, I force myself to turn around and sit on the edge of the desk. My eyes lock on his, and I feel my heart pounding loudly as I notice a few drops of cum making their way down his chin. With a smile on my lips, I reach for him and, using only the tip of my tongue, I scoop every last drop into my mouth.
Wordlessly, he leans into me and, with two fingers under my chin, presses his lips against mine. Instinct guiding every single one of my actions, I push my tongue past his lips and take into my mouth all of the cum he has licked out of me. I roll my tongue around his mouth, brushing it against his own tongue and at the insides of his cheeks and, when I finally pull back, my mouth is brimming with his salty seed.
This time, he doesn’t need to tell what to do; with an exhausted grin on my face, I swallow, Mason’s seed burning its way down my raw throat. Spent, exhausted, and barely able to think straight, I lean back, supporting myself on my elbows, and look into Mason’s eyes. He’s looking at me in a way that makes my heart tighten up, and I realize that, somewhere along the way, we crossed one forbidden line from where there’s no going back. We are no longer just fooling around or succumbing to desire… No, this is something more. Something that I can no longer control… Something that I no longer want to control.
“You’re mine, baby girl,” Mason whispers, looking down at me with more than just passion flickering in his eyes. Fully knowing that I’m signing my death sentence, I respond in kind.
“I’m yours.”
Mason
; "I'm yours."
Becca's words are tumbling through my brain as I travel back to my apartment. They nestle in my throat at every red light, and they sit in the pit of my stomach as the elevator to my apartment travels up to the top floor.
I told her that she was mine as well.
I know it doesn't make sense. I don't expect you to understand it. There's a considerable age difference between us, and she's my stepdaughter, which I have a hard time wrapping my head around … and I'm technically married … but we have an undeniable chemistry, Becca and I.
I'm falling for this girl. I have to be honest with myself.
This is new territory for me. I don't fall for women. Ever. Not Mason fucking Kane, the King of Wall Street.
But this is different.
I walk into my apartment and stand in front of the windows overlooking the city. My housekeeper called in sick today, and I notice a few used scotch glasses sitting on top of the table. I realize I better pick up the place a bit.
Becca mentioned that she was going to come over tonight after she finished up with her work. And after what just happened back at her office, I wouldn't object to a second round with her.
I press my forehead to the cool glass of the window, allowing the city lights to dance across my field of vision, and I recount my evening at the office. My hands on the small of Becca's back, and on her hips. Breathing in her scent as deep as my lungs would allow me to like a kid in a candy shop. My lips on her neck, nibbling her soft flesh. Hiking her skirt up above her thighs, and parting her legs. Firmly squeezing her perfect breasts and then feeling the wetness of her thong against the palm of my hand. Gently grabbing the rosy tip of her nipple in between my teeth and watching them grow hard under my touch. Her firm ass.
Just thinking about this is causing my cock to stir alive in my pants again. It's straining against my zipper and threatening to bust free.
Then I feel my cell phone vibrate in the pocket of my pants and it breaks my thoughts, bringing me back into the present.
It's Lorna. I let it ring a few times and then decide to answer it right before it goes to voice mail.
Hello dear, are you home?" she asks. She won't give up. It's like she doesn't understand that I want nothing to do with her.
I debate as to whether or not be truthful with her. Do I admit I'm home, or do I say I took a late client meeting? I figure lying takes too much energy, so I decide to tell her the truth.
"I just walked in the door," I reply.
"Good, I'd like to come over," she says, and I can almost hear her lips curl into a smile.
"Truthfully, I'm pretty tired tonight," I say. It's the best I can muster.
"Nonsense," she demands. "I'll bring a nice bottle of Pinot Noir, and we can unwind together. How does that sound?"
That sounds like my worst nightmare.