The Master (The Game Maker #2)(23)

But then he drew back, giving his head a hard shake. “Wait, dushen’ka. We’re going to relax and take this slowly. I have a matter to discuss with you.”

I barely listened to him. My nipples were rubbing across the material of his shirt, driving me crazy. “Discuss after you’re inside me.” I tightened my legs around him.

“I’m not going to f*ck you on the couch again.”

“Then f*ck me against the wall! Please, please, please.”

“Damn it, Katya,” he grated, digging in his pocket to snag another condom. “I don’t want you to hurt.”

“I won’t. It’ll be good.” I leaned forward, teasing his mouth, sucking on his tongue.

How he managed to put on a condom, hold me up, and kiss me at the same time, I’ll never know—but I felt the crown at my entrance.

When he inched inside, I had to stretch to take him, but it wasn’t like Monday night. No pain, just exquisite fullness as he sank ever deeper. Once he’d seated his cock as far as he could go, he seemed to force himself to go still. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, Máxim!”

He bit out, “I am officially . . . booking you . . . for the rest of the night.”

“I am officially dying to f*ck you again. It’s so good. So good inside me. Don’t hold back!”

He pulled my hair loose, tangling his free hand in the curls. “You need more?”

“Por Dios, yes!” I sucked on his neck, moaning over his pulse point.

“Then I want my cock covered in your wetness. I want to stir myself in it.” Only then did he draw his hips back, giving me a measured thrust.

The pleasure was so intense my breath caught in my throat. Another withdrawal and pump made me moan low. He alternately shoved his hips, then languidly stirred them.

He took my mouth, delving his tongue in time with his cock. My legs had eased down, my calves resting over his rock-hard ass. I could feel his taut muscles moving as he worked my body.

His determined thrusts were sending me closer to orgasm. “Harder, querido!”

Clutching my ass with splayed fingers, he wrenched me up and down with more and more force—until my teeth clattered with each landing.

I bucked to him, spurring him with my heels. He went wild, surging up inside me. “Come on me, Katya!” His face was an agonized mask, his body wracked for release. “I’ve waited two days for you to milk my cum again.”

I hissed in a breath at his gravelly voice and accent, his dirty words. At that moment, I wanted to give him anything he desired. “I’m so close!”

He clasped my nape, his palm covering it. “Yesterday, I jerked off to fantasies of you. Even late Monday night I f*cked my fist, replaying what we did.”

When my core clenched in reaction, his eyes widened.

I confessed, “When I imagined sucking you off, I started finger-f*cking myself. In my mind, you fed your cock between my lips. You came in a flood, and I drank you down.”

His hands started to shake. Brows drawn, he rasped, “True?”

“True. It was mi fantasia, just a fantasy. But as I orgasmed I was licking my lips for more.”

Máximo shockeado. At that, his shaft thickened until he could barely move. “It’s my fantasy too. Woman, the things you make me think . . .”

Those tremors began deep inside me. “You took your cock away from me, and I’ve wanted it back ever since.” One more hard thrust, and I’d be gone.

“I’m going to give it back to you all night long.” He withdrew to the tip, then slammed home—

“Yes, yes, yes!” My climax ripped through me; I threw back my head and screamed his name.

He went motionless, snarling words against my neck: “Your tight little *—uhn!—hot, wet . . . greedy!” He began to pound me, bouncing me on his cock, forcing my heart-stopping climax to continue. “You’re taking my . . . cum!” He bit out a broken yell as he ejaculated.

With each emptying thrust, he shuddered and groaned, pumping and pumping . . . until he was spent at last.

As we caught our breath, he clasped me possessively, both arms locked around my body. “Yet again, I didn’t make it to the bed.”

I couldn’t stop pressing appreciative kisses over his cheek, his lips, his neck. “You regret that?”

He lowered his forehead to mine, seeming to bask in my kisses. “Never.”

We met gazes when he began to stiffen again.

“My satiation didn’t last long.” With a muttered curse, he eased out from me, setting me on my feet. He removed the condom, zipped up his pants, then headed to the hall bathroom to dispose of it.

That was too good. I needed to get out of here—before I fell deeper under his spell.

When he returned, I’d already put on my coat, belting it over my ruined dress.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I told you I couldn’t stay for long.”

“Oh, no. I meant what I said. I’m booking you for the rest of the night.” His tone was all commanding: So says the king.

He strode to the bar, selecting a bottle of champagne.

“Celebrating something?”

“We will be. You’re going to show me fun.”

I hesitated. I could stay here, toasting champagne with him, or return home, tripping through murky parking lots to reach my pathetic apartment.