Controlling Krysta (9 page)

He pressed harder, but I tightened involuntarily. He caressed the puckered area, making small circles round and round.

My pussy squeezed and released, wanting to join the party.

“Let go of the headboard. Are you right or left handed?”

“Right.”

He grabbed my left wrist and flipped my hand, palm up. Lube soon covered my fingertips. He pulled my fingers down to my pelvis.

“Touch yourself like you do when you’re alone.”

I slipped a digit between my pussy lips. After feeling orgasm-deprived for so long, it was wonderful to finally be allowed to do something.

I began caressing my clit. Mason matched my movements, but his finger was between my ass cheeks. Hot messages zinged between my pussy and ass.

I thrust and wiggled my hips, wanting him to do more. I spread the goo around thoroughly inside my slit. He broke through into my ass.

I cried out at the intense, aching need coursing through my body. I wished he’d let me use my right hand to touch myself. I could have come already. My left couldn’t quite get the right rhythm.

The nerves in my ass communicated easily with those in my clit, each intensifying the experience for the other. I pressed harder.

“Now stop moving your finger.”

Damn him! Hadn’t I suffered enough? I desperately needed to come.

Yet, I obeyed.

His slick, glove-encased finger slipped farther into my ass. In such a strange position, it would have felt like I was getting a medical exam, except for the fact that my “doctor”

was Mason.

He pulled out slightly, then pushed in a little farther than before.

This was so confusing, since a part of me wanted him to keep going while another part was aware that this foreign object didn’t belong there.

He thrust in again, and this time there was an electrical twinge in my ass, like the ones I got when I touched my clit.

“Ahh…” I moaned.

“Do you like this, Krysta?”

“Yes,” I murmured.

“Yes who?”

“Yes, Mr. Maddox.”

He rewarded me by thrusting his thumb into my pussy while his finger plunged into my ass again.

I cried out. My hips and lower back left the bed completely. Every muscle in my body tensed and the first flash of an impending orgasm shot through me.

He removed his hand and the feeling disappeared.

I couldn’t believe he could be so cruel to me.

As he got up from the bed, my sexual frustration turned into anger.

I sat up and ripped off my blindfold in time to see him remove his glove and drop it into a plastic-lined trash can by the bed.

I opened my mouth to speak, but for once, words escaped me.

I couldn’t decide what I wanted to say to him first. What a heartless bastard he was for not letting me come? How sorry I was that I’d ruined a beautiful thing between us by signing that contract? How much I wanted him to take off his clothes and treat me to real skin contact?

He unzipped his jeans. I breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, we would do something normal together.

He put on a condom. As a symbol of intimacy, I would have preferred not to have it. I knew we didn’t need it, but condom sex was the norm, so that wasn’t so bad.

I lay down on the bed, hoping he would climb aboard and do what came naturally.

Instead, he kept his clothes on and straddled me, moving up until his pelvis was at my face.

He pressed his cock to my lips.

“Open your mouth,” he said.

I glared at him angrily. I didn’t want some condom in my mouth. I wanted his skin against mine. I knew this was more of him showing me how I’d lost his trust.

“Open your mouth.”

Enraged, I used all my strength to push him. He tilted off the bed, managed to catch himself on the coffee table, and stood, unharmed.

I sprang off the bed, planting my feet on the wood floor.

“I wanted to believe there was hope for you, Mason!” I yelled. “I let your brother convince me you were just coming off some awful times and that you cared about me.”

I glanced over at the dresser, wishing I had my clothes on for this.

Mason didn’t say anything. He pulled off the condom and zipped his pants as though he were expecting this.

“But you’re damaged and cruel. The contract is an excuse. You know your brother loves you.”

His eyes left mine and I knew I was right about that, at least.

“And you know what we could have together, but your guilt doesn’t let you believe you deserve it, so you hide behind plastic and hardware to keep me away!”

Mason was gazing out the window toward the stables. Even in profile, I could see the vein bulging in his forehead.

Was he mad because he knew I was right? Or still angry about being duped by me and his brother? Or both?

“Maybe you could put a giant plastic bubble around this house,” I said angrily. “That way you’d never get close to anyone again. You wouldn’t have to worry about loving anyone or losing them or even touching them.”

He turned to look at me, his jaw was tight as a drum. I thought I saw unshed moisture in his eyes.

His lips moved as if to part, but that’s as far as they got. After holding my gaze for only a second, he turned back to the window.

“Never mind.” I moved toward the dresser. “It’s too late. You’re already in the bubble.”

I wasn’t sure if I really believed that or if I’d said it as a challenge.

Mason whirled around, took two strides and grabbed me by my wrist.

“I’m not some damaged psycho who needs your love or my brothers ‘help,’ and I don’t need a damn bubble.”

“Prove it,” I said.

He glanced out toward the stables. When his gaze met mine again, he had a wry grin on his mouth, but his eyes weren’t smiling.

“Oh, I’ll prove it,” he replied.

Dix paced back and forth in the hallway of Tessa’s apartment building. He’d wrapped up his business as quickly as he could this week, then caught the first flight to Michigan.

He'd been in the building for fifteen minutes now and hadn’t been able to bring himself to knock on her door.

This had never happened to him before, not even when he was a teenager. Mason was the one who’d been awkward with girls. Dix had always assumed they’d want to spend time with him and he’d nearly always been right.

He paced back to apartment 214, staring at the door, thinking the building was too plain a place to house his Tessa.

He then remembered how skittish she was about the idea of all the things that came with being with a rich man. Ironic, since most women were as attracted to the money as anything else.

Dix put his palms to the door and leaned his forehead against the beige painted wood.

Why wasn’t he knocking?

Stupid question. He wasn’t knocking because he was afraid Tessa wouldn’t open the door alone. Her “boyfriend” could be with her and Dix didn’t know what he’d do under those circumstances.

On the other hand, if she turned out to be alone, he knew exactly what he would do.

All’s fair in love and war.

He was sure Tessa was too shy about her sexual quirks to share them with some guy she’d met in the past few months.

And, now that she was back home, she wouldn’t want to take the chance that people she’d grown up with would know her naughty little secrets.

But Dix knew. And if that’s what it took to make her his again, he’d pull out all the stops.

If he could only get up the courage to knock on the door.

*****

Supposedly, she was going to hear from him soon, but as time got shorter, reality had sunk in.

He was a rich playboy who hadn’t laid eyes on her or spoken to her in six months.

With a man like him, she was surely out of sight, out of mind.

But then she remembered the talks they had about their families and their lives. It had felt so intimate. So right.

And there was the passionate way he’d made love to her, like she was his first, which she hadn’t been, not by far.

Of course, thinking about the sweet love-making often reminded her of the other kind.

The hot games they played—the spankings, his voice as it commanded her body and her body obeyed.

She sighed wistfully.

Maybe she’d skip the tea tonight and go straight to bed with her Dixon Maddox fantasies.

A knock at the door startled her.

That was strange. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and her roommate—a nurse—was working the nightshift at the hospital.

Tessa walked to the door and peeked through the peephole.

Dix? Was she hallucinating?

She stepped back and snatched the claw off her head. Her long brown hair fell down past her shoulders. She smoothed it nervously.

The doorbell rang again. She went back to the peephole. It was definitely Dix.

Why had he come instead of calling? Did he not want to give her bad news over the phone?

Her insides trembling, Tessa unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door.

Dix didn’t smile. He didn’t sweep her into his arms. And what was that expression on his face?

His gaze took her in slowly, from head to toe. His blue eyes reflected the color of his turquoise shirt.

He was breathtaking.

“Come in?” It had come out as a question instead of an invitation.

“Anyone else around?” he asked, stepping through the door.

She shook her head. “My roommate’s on the nightshift.”

He placed his tall, broad-shouldered frame directly in front of her, and she felt especially small in her bare feet. For some reason, she stared at the white swoops on the western-style shirt, afraid to meet his mysterious gaze.

This wasn't what she’d expected. She’d thought when they first saw each other again, he’d be the twinkly-eyed charmer she’d left back in Houston.

He undid some buttons on his shirt, and pulled it off over his head, causing the muscles of his abs and chest to ripple with the movement.

Wow. Had he gotten hotter in the past six months? Her throat went dry and it was hard to swallow.

“Strip,” he said.

Luckily, she wasn’t wearing anything under her robe because, at the moment, she was too excited to fuss with any fasteners.

As she pulled her robe off, Dix produced a pair of handcuffs. He took her wrists and handcuffed them together in front.

Her heart accelerated at the idea of being mastered by him again.

“In case you decide you don’t want this, your safe word is ‘Mason Maddox.’”

A chuckle escaped her, and she looked up, expecting a teasing smile, but Dix was deadly serious.

She realized he’d chosen the last words she’d want to say in a sexual context, especially after the bizarre situation they’d found themselves in with his brother.

Dix was trying to make it as hard as possible for her to reject him. Why would he think she wouldn’t want this?

He turned her away from him, and pressed himself close. She felt his breath on her ear and shivered with anticipation.

“Tonight I’m your only master, Tessa,” he said. Hot cream rushed to her pussy.

“Say it.”

“You’re my only master.”

He led her to the little round dining table and pushed a stack of her roommate's fashion magazines off onto the floor.

His hot hand pressed into her back, causing her to bend over it, reminding her of the times he’d bent her over his desk. Her palms hit the glass tabletop.

As he caressed her ass, she thought she heard a little groan come from his throat.

“Cheek to the table,” he said. “But keep your pussy high for me.”

Her palms slid forward and she rested her face on the cool glass.

She heard the zipper on his jeans go down. When she realized he was opening a condom, she wondered if he’d been seeing another woman. Last time they were together, they’d both had good reason to believe they didn’t need them.

He raised her ass up higher with his palms, pulling her onto her tiptoes, her face still pressed against the tabletop.

Just as she became aware of the head of his cock between her thighs, he thrust into her, shocking and pleasuring her nerve endings all at once.

“Oh, God!” she cried. The handcuffs clanked against the glass above her head.

“Damn, I’d forgotten how tight you are.”

And she’d forgotten how big he was.

“I can’t hold off this time, Tessa. I’ve missed…”

He didn’t finish the sentence and she wondered if he’d started to say he’d missed her or just missed her tight pussy. But that thought was cut off when he began slamming into her.

Dixon Maddox’s cock stroked in and out, stretching her to her limits, filling her just the way she’d dreamed of for the past six months.

The wanton thrill in her pussy was nearly matched by the discomfort of the glass pulling at her cheek as her face pushed up and back on the table by the force of his assault.

She didn’t care. She’d do anything he wanted.

His fingernails slid up her sides. The tickling sensation made her shiver.

Large hands moved around to her breasts. Pinching her nipples, he drove into her again.

Dixon Maddox was pounding her into submission. He had chained her wrists and now held complete mastery over her. The thought caused her body to tighten and jerk.

She was ready for release.

He pinched harder and thrust, hitting a sensitive place deep inside her. She went into all out convulsions as he groaned and shuddered over her.