Manhattan Master Page 3

  Finally you're done. With a sigh you pull your hardness from my mouth. You look down at me, at my mouth that's still held wide open, shining from the oil.

  You open the tiny lock. I feel the slack in the harness, then you're removing the prongs from the corners of my mouth. In a few motions you free my hands, relieving the ache in my shoulders.

  "Come on out," you say, offering me your hand.

  My knees tremble as you help me stand. Once more I can see the city down below. I look longingly at your cock, shiny and hard from my suckling.

  I expect you to say no, but I can't stop myself from looking in your eyes and wheedling, "Please?"

  You lean back in the chair, your eyes raking over my bare, lightly sweating body. When you frown, I look down too. I'm shocked at how swollen my nipples are, at their angry red-purple hue.

  In my distraction under your desk, I've barely felt them. They throb like twin coals.

  "Don't worry, it will come off," you soothe, pulling the small knife out of your pocket. "It's just going to hurt for a minute, that's all."

  When you cup my breasts in your hands, the pressure pushes my nipples out. With slow deliberation you lick them both, pulling at the tortured flesh until I give a little shriek.

  Even so, the pull and tug of your fingers is driving me crazy with lust. I don't know how to handle what you do to my body. The pain and pleasure tosses me between them, like foam on the surf.

  You work the little knife under the twine. I grit my teeth, thinking that in a moment it'll be over. Then you stop. The blade is wedged under the string, tightening it unbearably, but you make no move to cut it.

  I look into your eyes, pleading with you to be finished.

  "I'm almost done," you assure me. "Just one cut and it's gone. Does it hurt?"

  "Yes," I say, trying not to whimper, but tears are in my eyes.

  Your fingers tap the knife handle. The vibration travels up into the blade, jiggling my bound nipple until I bite my lip to hold back a scream. Sliding your arm around my waist, you pull me to you as your soft, full lips close over my other nipple, bathing it with wet, smooth heat.

  My hands clench your dark, crisp hair. I cup your head as I sway in your grasp, your mouth and hands pleasuring and torturing my tits. My clit swells against the twine, and I realize that I'm about close, so close…

  "Not yet," you mumble around my breast. With a quick jerk, the blade slices the twine and frees my nipple.

  I groan as the blood circulates into my sore flesh, the burning tingle making me whimper again. Your lips find that ache, suckling the bruised flesh as I struggle between the pain and the pleasure.

  "One more to go," you murmur. The blade slips under the noose on my other nipple, slicing with another quick thrust. Again I feel the roaring ache of returning blood.

  Your mouth travels between my nipples, worsening the sting but heightening the pleasure.

  "Are you still close?" you ask between the licks.

  I nod, not trusting my voice.

  "I bet you want to ride me so bad right now, don't you?"

  Again I nod, a wash of heat bathing me.

  "So tell me. Tell me what you want me to do to you."

  "I want you to fuck me," I say, low and breathless. I can't stand it anymore. My hand tries to dip down between my thighs, to rub that ache. Your teeth on my nipple stops me.

  "Put your hand down, you greedy little bitch." The tone sends a thrill through me. I've never heard it quite like that, but I know it immediately. It's the voice of my master, a voice that won't be denied.

  My hand drops to my side. Your gaze seers me until drop my eye to look at my feet.

  "Look at me and tell me you want to fuck me."

  With effort, I meet your eyes.

  "I want to fuck you," I say. "I want to ride your cock. Please."

  "Why should I let you?" you ask. I notice your hardness is like a rod of steel against your belly. Despite the stern tone, I see the hint of a smile in your eyes.

  You don't stop me as I step forward, straddling your thighs and easing myself down astride your lap. The pressure reminds me of the toy still inside me.

  I lean forward until I'm pressing you hard into your chair. My lips brush your cheek, your neck, your ear.

  "Please let me ride you. Pretty please?"

  Your breathing quickens, and your hands tighten on me. My clit is on fire as your fingers find the vibrator. You give it one good push that almost makes me leap off your lap.

  I use my legs to turn your chair, pushing us across the floor. I strain, expecting you to help. Instead you grin and cross your arms behind your head, letting me do the work of taking us both to where I think we should go.

  My legs struggle to push us both, and sweat sheens my body. I hope I'm ruining your suit forever.

  Finally I have us where I want to be: right in front of the plate-glass, floor-length window that makes up the entire back wall of your office.

  I'm panting for breath as I glare at you. "You could have helped!"

  "I was just seeing what kind of a load you can pull. Who knows when I might need a ponygirl?" you say with a dark little smile.

  I decide I'd better shut up while I'm ahead.

  My body rubs against you, my lips covering your cheeks and chin with quick little kisses, trying to get around you with sweetness.

  Underneath those kisses, your stern demeanor softens. Your hands find my waist, pressing me down against you, rubbing my belly against it, slow and warm.

  "Tell me why you moved the chair over here," you say.

  "Because I want everyone to see us. If they look out their windows to see what the weather is doing, I want them to see me fucking you."

  It's the raw truth, but I can't believe I'm admitting it.

  You smile into my eyes then, rubbing me. Every movement of your hands makes the toy slip and slide as you maneuver me.

  "That's a very good answer. Anyone looking will see. You gonna do a good job?"

  I nod feverishly. I don't dare touch myself, but my hips won't stay still, quivering with the need to mount you, to ride you.

  "Raise up," you say.

  I lift my body with my thighs. Underneath I feel you grip the shaft of your cock, holding it upright, brushing the wide, smooth tip back and forth against me.

  "When I say 'down' then you come down. One hard motion. Got it?"

  That's when I feel my juices really let go, dripping down over you. Soft, wet pearls that fall slowly, making you ready for me.

  "Down," you say, yanking on my hips.

  The weight of my body carries me down hard, your cock plowing up into my wet softness. I reckoned without the dildo still in my ass, making me feel so full. I stop to catch my breath, getting used to your hardness in me, filling me so tight I can barely work you.

  Your lips are against my ear as you pull my body completely against yours.

  "Mine," you growl. "All of you is mine now. Mine alone. Do you understand that, Gabrielle?"

  I shake my head yes, hardly able to breath with the sensation of you having just filled me so brutally, so fully.

  "I understand," I say. My voice is breathless, uneven.

  You spread your knees, taking my thighs with you, stretching me wide. I writhe on your cock, but you press me down hard.

  "Stop moving," you say. "I want to just sit here and feel being inside you."

  You lean back and close your eyes, your hands still holding me down. That look of satisfaction on your face. The excitement inside of me. It's all too much.

  My climax starts before I think to ask permission. I can't stop. It's been too long, and my body won't stop. I twist on you, impaled, grinding you into me.

  Your hands hold me down, not letting me ride, only to grind and wish for more. The curve of your hardness jerks inside of me, pressing into me. I grind, unable to get enough of what you're doing to me.

  I collapse against you, my body churning with wet heat around your shaft. I bury my face a
gainst your neck, drowning in your scent as I go again, my legs wide and straining. You're deep in me, bruising me, and yet I can't get enough of you. I want more, more...

  The pleasure fades inside of me, and my body relaxes. I'm sprawled across you, still trying to hold you and the toy without letting either of you slip out. Your hands soothe me in long, slow strokes.

  I kiss your shoulder and neck, leaning up to whisper in your ear, "Thank you, Master. Thank you."

  I feel your smile press against my cheek. You ease me back so that I'm sitting astride you again, disheveled and spent.

  "You're welcome, Gabrielle. Now what about me?"

  I put my hands on the back of your chair for leverage, raising my legs off the floor, wrapping them around your waist. I ease them behind you, between the small of your back and the chair.

  When I'm done, I'm pressed like a second skin to you, my ankles locked at the small of your back, your cock pressed as deep into me as I can make it go.

  I grind against your hardness, rubbing up and down against your belly and chest, and now your hands don't hold me still. You cup my ass and squeeze, helping me to ride you.

  "You seem pretty lively in spite of that twine," you remark, one hand slipping down to caress between my folds to rub my clit.

  You're right. It tingles and throbs, but there's no sign of the intense pain I felt in my nipples. The twine keeps me tight and excited.

  Reaching behind me, you slip the dildo out of my ass. It feels strange to have the vibrations gone, but I can feel you better without the distraction of the humming.

  You drop the dildo on the floor and take my ass in your hands, squeezing roughly. I press my lips over yours, my tongue darting into your mouth when you moan.

  At long last, your control crumbles. With a grip like steel, your hands bite into my ass, grinding me down on your cock. The smooth, curved hardness punishes the softness inside of me in a way that makes me so close again, so very close to cumming.

  "Do it, my little slut. Fuck me."

  Your voice takes on that tone again. The one that makes me weak, that makes me obey. It's the voice of my master, the voice I find impossible not to obey.

  I speed up my riding, bouncing on your lap and grinding hard, squeezing you with every ounce of energy I can muster. You tense under me, driving me up like a bronco, straining as you lift me high. An agonized groan rises from deep inside you as I feel your heat mixing with my own.

  "Oh God…" is all I manage to say, squeezing you to get every drop. Your thrashing under my threatens to throw me off, but I cling, riding you.

  Gradually you slow under me. I try to get off of you, but your hands hold me like a vise. You open your eyes and smile, pressing me down.

  "Don't worry about it," you say. "I keep a clean suit on the back of the door in case I ever have to change for a meeting. Don't get up. I want to sit here and feel you, being inside of you."

  You wrap your arms around me, holding me so tightly I can barely breathe.

  "You were worth every moment of the wait, Gabrielle. You're not going back to Atlanta. We'll discuss that over dinner. Right now I just want know I have you here in my arms. That you aren't going anywhere."

  You close your eyes and sigh as you pull me against you. I relax into you and close my eyes, listening to the sounds of traffic below. Your breathing slows, pulling me further into the spell you've woven around me.

  The afternoon is deepening into evening. Down below the city is coming alive in the night. Across the street our hotel room is empty, and the toys are waiting in the dark. Your plans for me are a mystery yet to unfold.

  But all of that is for later. For now we're the only two people in our private world high above the city. In that strange and thrilling new world, everything is right.

  The End

  If you liked this story, please keep reading for an excerpt from MASTERFUL by Jesse Joren. Now available online.

  MASTERFUL

  Jesse Joren

  Copyright © 2015 Jesse Joren

  ISBN-10: 1512141550

  ISBN-13: 978-1512141559

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without prior written permission from the author. Brief quotations for critical articles and reviews are excepted.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, etc. are either created by the author or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to real-life persons, situations, etc. is purely coincidental.

  PROLOGUE

  Tonight I've committed serious crimes. Quite a few, actually, but no one is better than me at not getting caught. Sometimes the only way to set things right is to break every rule.

  Darkness has folded around me like the old friend it is. Soon she'll be home, but she doesn't know I'm here. By now I know her habits almost better than my own.

  She thinks she's a free spirit without patterns, but everyone believes that. Realizing that common mistake made my fortune. Exploiting it gives me power.

  Finding her has taken a lot of time and expense. She's worth it, but she doesn't know that either. Everything is about to change for you, Evangeline Bright.

  Yes, I know your real name. I know everything you hid from me, and even from yourself. Whatever I have to do – for you or to you – you're going to see things my way.

  Or else.

  CHAPTER ONE

  When I unlocked my apartment late that Friday night, I stopped with my keys still swinging from my hand.

  Something was different.

  A dim beam from the outer hallway light cut into the darkness of my small living room. The deadbolt had been locked when I pushed in my key. The security system had beeped when I entered the code.

  There was no back door to worry about. My second-story windows were safe unless Spiderman had turned to a life of crime.

  Nothing was out of place. There was silence except for the hum of the fridge and the ever-present throb of Atlanta traffic.

  It was all very ordinary. After two years I knew every creak and every scent in every corner.

  But my guard was up. Way, way up. Something was in the air that had nothing to do with my life.

  A primitive part of me suddenly spoke up.

  Run, Eva. Right now. Even if you feel stupid later.

  My mind fluttered for a logical reason, found one, seized it with relief.

  Maintenance had finally replaced the carpet last month. It looked better, but there was still a faintly unpleasant chemical after-smell.

  How stupid to let that worry me. I was getting paranoid at the ripe old age of twenty-two.

  It's not the same, and you know it.

  "Stop being a chicken," I muttered, reaching for the light switch.

  Click-click-click. Nothing.

  A shadow moved behind the door, knocking it shut. A strong hand caught the back of my head as a cloth covered my face.

  Keen scent filled my nose and throat. That was it. The thing that didn't belong here.

  Fucking security system. I want a refund.

  That childish, useless thought followed me into unconsciousness.

                 

  "Wake up, Eva."

  Grayness was inside my head as I considered that voice. Deep and male, a hint of rasp.

  A cool curve of glass touched my dry lips. Suddenly I was swallowing cold water on reflex.

  The brain fog scared me. Something was happening. Something bad. A single thought burst forward with half-awake urgency.

  Face. Don't…look at…face…

  I squeezed my eyes shut as hard as I could. Pressure starbursts bloomed behind my eyelids.

  "I don't have a lot of money," I croaked. "It's in the bathroom, taped under the sink. Just take it and go. I didn't see your face."

  His low chuckle stroked my ears.

  "I don't need your money. Or your car keys. Or your jewelry, if those are your next offers. Open your
eyes. I'm not going to kill you."

  The fog was fading faster as I woke up. I was on my back in what felt like my bed. My arms were restrained over my head.

  Oh hell. This wasn't good.

  "If I wanted you dead, you already would be," he said mildly.

  He had a point there. Slowly I let my eyes open.

  My bedroom was undisturbed, mostly dark. Light from the kitchen sent a glow down the short hallway and into the room.

  It was all very normal except for the dark shape sitting next to me on the bed. Even in the dimness, he radiated power.

  "I'm going to turn on the light," he said.

  "Don't do that, I—"

  The bed shifted as he leaned to click on the small bedside lamp. Forty watts had never seemed so bright, making me wince as my familiar room came into focus.

  Then, against my better judgment, my gaze touched his face.

  His steady gray eyes held no particular expression as they studied me. Short, dark blonde hair. Skin that looked tanned, though it was hard to tell in the semi-dark.

  The lamp side-lit his face, accentuating its strong, lean lines. He was almost beautiful, but his expression was just a shade too serious to allow perfection.

  His mouth was well-shaped, firm. The type of lips that can be stern or sensual, depending on the mood of their owner.

  Controlled power was outlined in his broad shoulders and chest under the fit of his dark T-shirt. His arms were lean and seemed to ripple with cords of muscle, even though he wasn't moving.

  He made no move to touch me. He just watched as I took stock of him, of my situation.

  The light confirmed what I already knew. I was in my bed, arms tied over my head.

  Glancing down, I saw that I was still wearing my gray Braves T-shirt and my worn panties, once a pretty shade of cobalt blue. The rest of my clothes were gone.

  Since he wasn't saying anything, it seemed like it was up to me. My voice surprised me with its calm.