The Dom's Secret: A Light BDSM Bad Boy Romance Page 9

  Because with a pop, the tip of his finger slides into my anus.

  “Unnh,” is my achy moan. “Oh god, unnh.”

  But Mason’s not done yet.

  “I’m gonna give you another one,” he soothes. “You think you can take another one?”

  It’s just a rhetorical question because the big man uses his first finger as leverage and pries me open, slipping a second one in along with the first. Oh shit! I just fucked his hand with my pussy, and now I’m being asked to accept a fist up my butt.

  But there’s only one choice.

  Submit.

  And willingly, I do.

  “Yes,” comes my heaving pant. “Yes, yes, keep going.”

  The billionaire goes for it then. Slowly, he pushes two fingers into my rectum, testing its elasticity, the hot walls resisting slightly.

  “Fuck,” he grunts. “You’re so fucking tight.”

  I moan again.

  “I can’t help it,” are my helpless words. “But oh … ahhh!”

  Because Mason’s licking my clit then. That’s right, with two fingers jammed up my anus, he’s bent his head to lap at my nub like a ravenous dog, my insides going soft and loose.

  “That’s it,” he growls into my folds. “I can feel your ass relaxing as your cunt gets tongue.”

  And with that, the deep fucking begins. I know it’s not the same as male penis. I know his fingers are just fingers. But it’s good. It’s real good. I twist helplessly on the bed as he works my back hole while lapping at my clit. Oh god, oh god. This is so wrong. Do sugar babies do this? Are they depraved and nasty? And even worse, do they love it the way I do?

  Because Mason’s opened new vistas to me. When I signed up on the website, I never dreamed it would be like this. There was the possibility of sex, yes. But I never thought I’d be helpless to him, a slave at his fingertips, humping and grinding anything he offered.

  But here I am now, butt penetrated by his fingers as he eats my sweet hole. And just like before, my body can’t resist. With a long, low cry, everything spasms, electricity flying all the way to my fingers and toes.

  “Oh FUCK!” is my scream into the universe. “Oh fuck oh fuck!”

  Because it’s terrifyingly primal. I’m a virgin with the man she adores. I’m a sweet innocent who’s been turned into someone I don’t recognize. A whore. A slut. A creaming cunt on two legs who does anything her man demands.

  And I don’t regret it one bit. In fact, regret doesn’t even enter the equation as my body flies through the vortex, every part of me spasming and twitching, centered on where his body meets mine.

  “Master!” is my helpless cry. “Yes, yes!”

  And the big man is into it. He eggs me on, lapping furiously at my clit as those thick digits plunge into my anus again and again, stretching me wide.

  “Yeah, baby,” he grunts. “Go for it. Because this is all mine.”

  And with another scream, I let go once more, spiraling into free fall. Because what the billionaire said is true. I’m all his. He bought my body through a website … but now my heart belongs to him too.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Mason

  Oh shit, oh shit. What have I done? Watching the girl sleep next to me should be peaceful and rewarding, but instead, my gut wrenches.

  Because this arrangement has gone crazy overboard, spiraling into a chasm, totally beyond my control.

  I pumped Carrie full of sperm. Not once, not twice, but a whole frickin’ five times last night. Our orgasms were endless, one rolling into another, our bodies calming before incredibly, revving back up again to go another round. Shit shit shit! Even now, as the brunette lies on her side, I can see those pussy lips, the swollen folds pink and still slightly wet.

  Fuck.

  They’re wet from my cum.

  Slowly, I reach a hand down and lightly trace over that juicy crevice, bringing my finger up for a taste.

  Oh shit, yeah that’s my cum. Goopy and sticky, chock full of Vitamin D.

  Because what else would it be? I pumped the female full again and again, so that even hours later, she’s still leaking. Oh yeah. As I watch, another tell-tale drop of virile white appears at her hole before oozing down to trail over one big buttock.

  Because oh shit. Carrie’s fertile. She’s eighteen, she’s got to be, and yet I have no regrets about dousing her with the good stuff. In fact, all I want to do right now is to deliver again, to make her take another load while screaming with pleasure.

  How many times did we do it last night?

  Head over heels, her legs over my shoulders?

  My fingers in her ass, before ramming her cunt?

  The girl bent over so far over that she was practically doing the splits, pussy creaming in my face?

  Because oh yeah, my sweet sub wanted it. She screamed and cried the whole night, real tears rolling down those cheeks. But they were tears of ecstasy, her body pouring forth in more ways than one. So I just fucked her harder, those tight little holes embracing my dick.

  But yeah, now this.

  The girl in my bed, snoozing peacefully, creamy curves relaxed.

  Dripping with my cum, oblivious to how I’m eyeing her body like a horny dog.

  Shit, it’s not supposed to be like this. With past subs, I didn’t let them stay the night. Naw, not even Amanda, who was the best of that sordid bunch. It just didn’t feel right, you know? The whole reason why I look for an arrangement is exactly this. I’m paying the girls to leave afterwards, no questions, no hurt feelings.

  But here’s Carrie now, limbs sprawled peacefully, those big boobies rising and falling as she sleeps. And shit, but I just want to fuck her again. I want to wake her up with my face between her thighs before easing into that sweet, hot channel.

  “Mason!” she’ll gasp, startling awake even as my cock throbs, invading her insides. “Oh god, Mason!”

  And it’ll feel so good, so right, blasting once more into that virgin warmth.

  But this isn’t the time. Because we need protection, and fuck, but I can’t bring myself to open the nightstand and reach for the condoms. Yeah, they’re right there, two feet away. But it turns me off, the stench of latex, the gummy feel. No film of plastic is gonna come between me and that sweet cunt, no layer of rubber.

  So growling, I lay on my back for a moment, forcing myself to breathe while staring at the ceiling. What the fuck is going on? How has this fever come over my brain? I want to drill Carrie so bad, but it’s more than that. I want to bring her to more company functions. I want to show her off, to take her to the best restaurants, or just walk through Central Park hand in hand. I want to see her smile, to hear that tinkling laughter as she looks at me, shy and sweet at once. I want her to move in.

  Move in?

  Into this place, my penthouse, my sanctuary? I haven’t even shown her the red room yet.

  So what the fuck?

  But fortunately, there’s no time to wrestle with the realization because Carrie’s phone buzzes then. Slowly, the girl comes awake, eyes blinking.

  “Hi Mason,” is her soft greeting. “Good morning,” she says before reaching for her cell.

  And shit, I’m done for. Because the brunette is like Venus rising from the sea, those generous white curves undulating as she stretches a bit, yawning.

  But then everything changes. That naked body tenses as she stares at the glowing screen, the bluish white light casting her features with a ghostly glare. Carrie’s eyes go wide with panic as one free hand scrabbles to brush unruly curls away.

  “Is everything okay?” I grunt, watching intently as she types frantically on the small keyboard.

  The girl doesn’t answer, and I crane my head forwards a bit to see the screen. But phones these days are uncanny. There’s a privacy filter so that a sideways glance reveals nothing, just blankness. No worries, whatever it is, it’ll come out soon enough.

  “Mason,” Carrie says, jerking her head up, breath coming fast. “I have to go. Right now. My pare
nts showed up at the house, and Nicole is there alone.”

  But that doesn’t make any sense. What’s wrong with having your parents and sister in one house? Suddenly, the details of her background check come rushing back. That’s right, Jim and Rhonda Newman are deadbeats, no-good lazy ass fucks who are probably addicted to drugs.

  But Carrie doesn’t know I know, so her words come rushing out, tumbling over one another, anguished and sad.

  “It’s a long story, but my parents are bad people. Trust me, I’m their daughter, I know. As a result, Nicole can’t be there alone,” Carrie states, voice rising with panic. “I have to go now.”

  And springing to her feet, those naked curves sway enticingly.

  “Where’s my dress? Oh god, where’s my purse? I have to go, I have to go,” she says wildly, looking about the room frantically.

  “Calm down,” I soothe, big body already in motion. “Here, take these.”

  And Carrie’s fingers snatch the sweatpants and t-shirt from my hands, thrusting them on. If this weren’t so serious, I’d laugh. The curvy girl’s swimming in my clothes, literally buried in layers of cotton.

  But keeping a serious look, I speak once more.

  “I’ll take you home and we can talk to your parents together,” is my smooth rumble. “No worries, things are gonna be fine.”

  She rejects my offer outright.

  “No. No, I have to go alone, but thank you. I appreciate it,” she says hurriedly. “Now where’s my purse?”

  I hold up one hand, pausing for a moment.

  “Seriously sweetheart. I don’t mind talking to your parents. I don’t mind doing a go-see, no worries,” comes my mild voice. Trust me, they’ll fall into line if I’m there. When the boss comes around, people tend to fall into line. Ma and Pa Newman would be no exception.

  But Carrie shakes her head frantically, brown curls tumbling about those shoulders.

  “No, no, you don’t know Jim and Rhonda,” she says in a low voice, lips pressed in a tight line. “They’re impossible, they won’t listen. Please,” she manages, purse finally located. “I’ll take you up on that ride. Can we go now?” she asks, voice trembling faintly.

  I don’t bother to argue. The brunette’s in a near-frenzy, and the sooner she gets home to protect her baby sister, the quicker this panic attack will pass. Shit, Carrie probably only became a sub because of her sister.

  Slowly, realization dawns on me, the pieces falling into place. With deadbeat parents, Carrie’s probably the only source of income at home, the only source of support. But it’s not just financial. There’s an emotional component as well, with my sweet girl a well of stability for her younger sibling.

  Oh shit.

  I was never this good in my life.

  Never this giving, so considerate and protective.

  So nodding, I growl.

  “Got it. My driver will take you, sweetheart, no problem. Do you want me to walk you down to the lobby?”

  The brunette shakes her head frantically.

  “No, no, I need to figure this out,” she gabbles, looking around wildly.

  Okay, this is getting to be too much. Placing two big hands on her shoulders, I run my palms up to her neck, softly cupping that beautiful face. Big brown eyes look to me with need, trembling and slightly glassy, filled with tears. But sure enough, my touch seems to calm her somewhat.

  “Take a deep breath, honey,” is my growled command. “Take a deep breath, let the oxygen into your lungs, and then let it out. You’re gonna be okay, okay? You’ll work this out, and if not, you have me on your side. Got that, sweetheart?” I ask, punctuating the question with a kiss on those soft lips. “You hear me? I’m on your side.”

  Carrie’s chin trembles beneath my large palms, eyes going even more watery. But she nods, leaning into my big form for a second before breaking away and dashing towards the door.

  “Thank you Mason,” is her last whisper. “Thank you so much.”

  And then she’s gone.

  Standing alone once more, I contemplate the silence. Holy shit, did I really just offer to intervene in a sugar baby’s family problems? Did I just pledge to be on her side, to support her through thick and thin? Shit, this is even more fucked up than I thought, and my head shakes on its own.

  Get with it, a voice inside growls. You’re losing your head over a paid companion. Are you nuts?

  But that’s the thing. I can’t. I can’t stop caring. Even if my brain is logical, commanding me to stop, I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop. And in the next two minutes it’s decided.

  Picking up the intercom, I growl, “Car.” One word, short and swift.

  Because I’m not letting Carrie go over there by herself. My best girl needs me. She needs me to face down those deadbeats, to help in any way possible. So yeah, I’m headed to a bad part of town. I’m gonna stick my nose in someone else’s business, and if that doesn’t work, we’ll see what else I can stick in. Because as an influential citizen of New York, there’s a lot that can happen … and I’ll turn the world upside down if that’s what my baby needs.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Carrie

  “Are you okay?”

  I hold Nicole’s reddened face between my hands as she sobs painfully, narrow shoulders heaving. I can’t stand it. Turning furious eyes to my father, I glare like a hellcat.

  “Are you insane?” is my hurled accusation, voice screeching like a car with faulty brakes.

  Because I’ve seen my parents do some really crazy things over the years. They were gone for three days, but to be honest, that’s nothing new. Jim and Rhonda aren’t exactly loving, caring parental figures.

  But my dad hitting my little sister is a new low for them, and the anger in my breast surges as her cheek begins to swell. I’m supposed to protect Nicole. But how can I do that when it’s our own parents causing the hurt? Frustration and helplessness make my fingers clench uselessly, white-knuckled and painful.

  But my anger doesn’t even make a dent. Both Rhonda and Jim are still soused from their three day bender, lurching about here and there. As I watch, Rhonda collapses onto the couch, head tilted way back as that gaunt form slumps.

  “Rhonda,” I hiss. “Wake up.”

  She grunts slightly, stirring a bit.

  “Mom,” comes my hiss again. “Wake up. Your child needs you.”

  And by that I mean Nicole. I don’t care what happens to me. I don’t care what ugly things pass before my eyes, or what I have to endure.

  But it’s not right for my little sister to go through this. Nicole’s not like me. She’s not tough. She’s not a street fighter. Even a cross words puts tears in her eyes, my little sister’s not cut out for this kind of deprivation.

  “Mom,” I hiss again. “Come on.”

  But Jim lurches forwards then, arms flailing.

  “She ain’t wakin’ up,” he slurs. “Nobody’s gonna save you.”

  Nicole screams and cowers behind me. I can see why. Our dad is out of control, his arms windmilling wildly as he staggers to a stop, leaning heavily against the counter.

  “Ain’t nobody gonna help you now,” he rasps with that gap-toothed smile. Oh god, my dad’s teeth are horrifically rotted, greyish black from lack of hygiene, and instinctively, we recoil. “You’re stuck with us.”

  But I know that’s not true. I’ll get us out of here. I’m making money, even if it’s from a site called Sugar Babiez.

  “Go get your things,” I whisper urgently to Nicole behind my back. “Just grab a bag and throw some things in.”

  But Nicole is crying so loudly she doesn’t hear me.

  Suddenly, my mom jerks awake.

  “Knock it off! He barely touched you! Ain’t like that never happened before. My paw paw gave it to me a lot worse and with a belt too!” she screeches before slumping into another stupor.

  Oh god, oh god.

  “Go Nicole,” I hiss. “Get your stuff now.”

  My sister scurries into her room, stifled
sobs sounding as she runs.

  Jim leers my way.

  “All she does is cry. From the time she came back from that damn hospital,” my dad sneers, slamming the refrigerator shut. “How do we give her back?”

  I’m so enraged that words escape me, eyes bulging.

  “Give her back? She’s your daughter,” the words spit from my lips.

  But he doesn’t care, peering into the fridge again.

  “Where’s the beer? You drink my beer Carrie?” he demands, suddenly dead serious, pale blue eyes snapping to life.

  Something breaks within my breast.

  “There’s no more beer. We don’t have anything,” is my furious retort.

  Jim raises his hand threateningly, palm open.

  “You’re so fucking sassy for no reason. Go clean up your room or something,” he hisses, gesturing my way.

  But I don’t care if he hits me. I’d bear those marks with pride, standing up to these two monsters.

  “How about you all go back to wherever you’ve been for the past few days. Go and never come back! We don’t need you!” I shriek. “All you do is mess things up!”

  My mom snaps awake again and lurches up from the sofa like a zombie coming to life. It’s scary to see, she’s twig thin, her skin ravaged, eyes empty.

  “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” Rhonda rasps shakily, leaning heavily on a table. “Who do you think you are?”

  Jim smirks.

  “She acts like she pays rent around here. You ain’t the boss, Carrie,” he sneers. “Not by a long shot.”

  But then I pull my trump card.

  “No one pays the rent around here. I saw the eviction notice,” is my hurled accusation. “Don’t even try to deny it.”

  Flat silence.

  And then my dad opens the fridge again, like nothing’s wrong.

  “Didn’t you hear me?” my voice grows louder with each word. “We’re being evicted. We’re gonna have to pack our stuff and get gone,” I say, almost screaming, wiping at my eyes now. “They gave us thirty days, and I figure we have oh, about ten left.”