Page 117 of Masked Sins
Using brute force, he spreads my legs with both hands, flattening my knees against the leather.
“You aremine,” he snarls, nostrils flaring.
His words flood me with pleasure—with something warm and addictive and sweet like honey. I open my legs wider, and his eyes flare with intensity before he looks down at me.
I don’t even feel embarrassed. He already knows the worst parts of me, and despite it all, he still wanted me enough to come here tonight.
“I don’t share, Layla. This beautiful, decorated cunt? It’s mine.”
“Yes,” I whisper, working my hips higher. “Please, I need you, Orion?—”
“Call me Orion again, and we’re going to have a problem.”
I gasp, and everything becomes hazy with lust. I’ve been reduced to a body that desperately needs release—like a taut cord waiting to snap. I can’t take much more.
Especially when he talks to me inthatvoice—the one I’ve only heard a handful of times.
His Dom voice.
“Please, Master. I need you inside me.”
“That’s nice. I couldn’t give a fuck what you want,” he says. His voice isn’t cruel. In fact, his lips pull into a lopsided smile as he runs another finger through my folds. “I plan to savor you, Little Dancer. Every inch. Every lick. Every breathy word that leaves your lips. Atmyleisure.”
Panic and elation rush through me. I don’t want to wait—but I also know he’ll make it worth my while.
“Color?”
“Green,” I practically wheeze as his thumb brushes against the metal of my piercing.
“Good. I’m going to ask you some questions now,” he says, his voice a low purr. “If you’re a good girl and answer honestly, I’ll reward you and let you ask a question.”
He flicks the curved barbell, and I keen. I see stars, and my hands curl at my sides as my hips begin to circle, chasing some kind of friction. A smattering of pleasure skitters down my spine, giving me a taste of the reward he’s willing to give me.
“God,” I rasp.
“When did you get this?”
“A year ago. I didn’t tell anyone. It was just something for me.”
“Your turn,” he says. “I’m sure you have questions for me.”
“What else are you planning on doing to me tonight? Are you going to hurt me?”
He looks down at me as his brows furrow. One of his fingers teases the entrance of my core, trailing a slow circle around the hyper-sensitive area.
“Yes.” His quick answer causes my whole body to tense with fear. “I will hurt you, but I will never harm you. And that was two questions,” he adds, pinching my clit.Hard.
I let out a sharp gasp. “Oh God,” I mutter, a full-body shudder working through me—down my legs, all the way to my toes. Everything begins to tingle with awareness.
He laughs. “So you are a masochist. I suspected that might be the case,” he purrs, trailing his other hand up my bare leg. “Why are you here, Layla?”
His question catches me off guard. I’m not sure if he means literally or if he means how I practicallybeggedStarboy to meet me tonight.
I suspect it’s the latter, but it feels too personal. Too intimate. Despite having his index finger running down the slippery seam of my vulva, telling him about how conflicted I felt earlier feels like I’m sharing too much.
“I just wanted to meet the person I’d been talking to.”
It’s notexactlya lie. More like an omission. Besides, what does he expect? That I’ll tell him I have feelings for him?
