Just as I was sure I couldn’t bear this searing ache anymore, a sound came from the door behind, and the chiri guided me to stand in the center of the room. The chiri immediately backed away and slunk into the shadows, keeping out of sight. Even in the light fog clouding my mind, I registered confusion at her behavior. She appeared terrified. Desperately afraid of whoever was about to show himself.
Then a male entered the room. A domineering, mysterious male. His dark eyes immediately collided with mine, and he stopped dead. He was dressed in a clean dark suit and green tie. His black hair was pushed off his head, his strong chiseled jaw dusted in dark stubble. I noticed that he was fairly handsome. Older than me by quite a lot of years, but handsome nonetheless.
Then he smiled.
And I stilled.
Before I could do anything else, a devastating wave of need took me in its hold, and a small cry left my mouth. The male’s dark eyes flared with excitement and he walked forward, slowly and controlled.
Predatory.
The strong musky scent of his skin washed over me as he approached. I rocked on my feet as another wave of heat filled me inside, scorching my muscles. In reaction to my whimper, the male lifted his hand to my face. He towered over me in height and breadth. His large hands were smooth and soft.
“You’re even more beautiful than a Greek goddess,” he murmured, then ran his hand down over my neck. Pressure built between my legs at his touch, my body yearning for him to slip his hand lower to relieve the pressure. I gasped, unable to keep my eyes open, when another rush of heat filled me. I grew wet between my thighs. Suddenly, the male’s hand dropped and cupped my core. I snapped my eyes open, my pulse racing with need.
The male’s nostrils flared at my reaction, and he leaned in, running his nose over the tip of mine. His fingers at my core began to move toward my entrance, and I sighed at the feel, needing him to push them inside my channel. “Beautiful,” he murmured as his mouth drifted to my ear, his fingers dancing along my hot flesh. “You need me, don’t you, 152? You need Master to take away the pressure? To make you feel better? To make that pussy calm?”
I moaned in response, but I heard him. I heard his every word. This male was Master Arziani. This was the male I was meant to serve. I moaned again as his free hand twisted something on the shoulder of my dress and the fabric fell away to the floor, pooling at my feet. The cool air kissed at my naked skin.
A low, hungry groan left his throat, and in seconds, his eager mouth was on my breast. As his tongue flicked over my tight nipple, I cried out. His hands at my core worked faster, bringing me to the edge of relief. Just as the ache was about to be soothed, Master backed away and ordered, “Bed. Get on the bed. On your back.” His voice had lowered to a stern rasp. I did as instructed as Master quickly shed himself of his clothes. The muscles rippled on his stomach as he approached, his strong thick legs covered in a dusting of dark hair.
Lying back, I spread my legs, inviting him inside me. Needing him above me. But when Master reached the end of the bed, instead of covering me with his body, he dropped to his knees and took me with his mouth. An ecstatic scream left my throat as I felt him flick over my bud with the tip of his tongue. I fisted the bed linen in my hands as a wave of pleasure crashed over me. But the pressure at the bottom of my spine didn’t leave; instead, it heightened. It built and built until my body was alive with the urge to be taken: rough, raw, and filled with Master’s seed.
A light sheen of sweat covered my skin, and Master broke his mouth away from my core, crawling slowly and steadily until he was above me. My back arched, searching for more: his touch, his warmth, his hands. Our gazes collided, and he licked his lips as his hand palmed my breast.
I rolled my hips as Master placed himself between my legs, the feel of his hard length moving to wait at my entrance. I tried to push forward, but Master’s hands reached to grip my wrists over my head. His grip was too tight to fight, and I thrashed, desperately needing some relief.
Master’s face dropped to hover over mine, and he pressed kisses along my cheek. When he withdrew slightly, he said, “I knew it would be like this with you. You were born to be a High Mona. Your unrivaled looks, this body … this insatiable need for me to fuck you. Your Master.” His pupils dilated and I bit my lip as I felt the tip of his length pushing inside me.
As he thrust forward, his grip on my wrists increased until a flash of pain crashed through me, eradicating the pleasure. But as I cried out from pain, he slammed inside me in one swift move, and I screamed at the feel. Too many conflicting sensations were running through me as he began slamming into me, each thrust bringing me closer and closer to the brink.
Master groaned above me, with me moaning in reply as his hard chest brushed against my breasts. Master’s warm breath ghosted over my face. Moving his mouth closer to my ear, he growled, “I own you, mona. I own every part of you. You’re mine.”
I cried out as his grip on my wrists tightened, causing a brutal pain to override the pleasure. “Do you hear me?” he asked, suddenly pausing in his taking of me. His handsome face was stern and unyielding, staring me down.
I moaned in protest, trying to roll my hips to feel him move within me once again. But he held still, his eyes hard and crazed with the need for my response.
“Yes,” I replied breathlessly. I screamed as his grip became so hard on my wrists that I feared the bones would break. “Master,” he hissed, “Show your fucking respect, mona.”
“Yes, Master,” I corrected quickly, holding my breath immediately afterward. Master’s face softened, his anger dissipated, and his grip on my wrists slackened. “That’s better,” he praised, and released one of my wrists to place his hand on my cheek.