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forward, pressing my cheek to
the cool marble of the entryway wall, my thumb holding the elevator button all
the while. Behind the heavy wooden doors to the lounge, voices rose in
laughter, then receded. A slave squealed in tormented joy. Was it the redhead?
Why was the elevator taking so damn long to get here?
    The sound of a footstep on the entryway tile sent a gush of panic
through me, scattering my thoughts. I whirled around, summoning a weak smile to
my face, muttering, “Oh, excuse me, I’m not feeling very—”
    The rest of my bullshit excuse for weeping in the entryway fell
mute as I faced Wolf. Though he was otherwise pristine, his face was still
flushed from coming in the redhead’s mouth. I was so jealous I wanted to slap
him. My hands contracted into tight fists at my sides, my fingernails stabbing
into the soft flesh of my palms.
    I felt a tear break from my wet eyes, and goddamn it, I couldn’t
stop it. It ran down the mask. As the warm drop hit my face, Wolf surged
forward, forcing me back against the cold marble wall. I gasped, at the chilly
tiles pressed to my back and the sudden heat of his body thrust against me from
thighs to chest. He smothered my muddled cry of surprise with his lips against
mine, demanding they part for him. My hands instinctively shot up to push
feebly at his shoulders, and he pinned my wrists to the wall above me, my arms
stretched as high as I could reach. I whimpered as he leaned in harder, his
cock digging into my lower stomach. He had just come in the redhead’s mouth and
was already so hard again.
    Helpless, weak with desire, I opened my lips to his kiss and whined
shamelessly as his tongue penetrated my mouth. It slid confidently, forcefully
against mine, coiling and coaxing. He tasted hot and coppery and vaguely of the
berry and spice notes in The Tower’s best wine.
    When he pulled his head back, I felt like a starving woman who had
just tasted a crumb of bread. I tilted my face up, craning for more.
    “Spread your legs,” he ordered, not in the strict, callous tone he
had used with the redhead, nor in the coaxing voice he had used with me the
previous night. This was firm and possessive, impatient and unyielding. His
shoes pushed at the inside of my pumps until my legs were spread so far I was
almost dangling by his hold on my wrists.
    Wolf shifted his grip to hold both my wrists in one hand. The other
jerked my tight skirt up to my waist, exposing me, and dove deep into my black
panties. If the last few moments hadn’t demonstrated to him that I was indeed a
submissive, his hand finding my pussy shaved betrayed me. A sigh shuddered out
of me as two of his fingers probed my creamy folds.
    “Your cunt is gushing wet,” he said accusingly. The Dominant stared
boldly down into my eyes, and I felt my face and chest flush with
embarrassment, humiliation, arousal. “It turned you on watching me use that
slave.” A burst of jealousy made me want to deny it, but I pressed my lips into
a frown and bit down the urge. He bent his face forward again, his mouth
brushing mine as he said, “It could have been you on your knees for me, submitting
yourself to me. You could have let go of your fear and your pride and given
yourself to me as your Master. I’d already be inside you. I’d already have you
begging and moaning.”
    Breathlessly, almost silently, I whimpered, “I know.”
    “Then why?”
    My tears flowed down the mask. “I want more . And I want someone who wants more.”
     
     
    ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
     
    I’m the girl-next door with an unexpectedly wicked mind (and
an addiction to sexy high heels). There’s nothing quite like the thrill of
turning forbidden desires and secret fantasies into erotic tales with literary
flare and a dirty mouth. Let me tell you a naughty story…
     
    Erika Masten
    [email protected]
    http://erikamasten.com