Home > The Master (The Game Maker #2)(7)

The Master (The Game Maker #2)(7)
Author: Kresley Cole

When I set back in, he faced me, his blue gaze flicking from my eyes, to my lips, down to my tits and thong and back.

As I pleasured myself, his own lips caught my attention. They were as attractive as everything else about him. The fuller bottom one had a sexy dip in the middle. What would it be like to kiss him?

Ivanna said it bonded people too much, and that you had to save something special for a lover in your life. I had no lover, and no fear of bonding. Right now, hovering on the edge of orgasm, I had no fears at all! I gazed at his lips, licking my own.

“You think I need to be kissed?” His words were hoarse.

“Doesn’t everyone—”

He bucked his hips hard, rocking his unyielding cock against my panties.

At last! “Oh! Fricción . . . Do it again, por favor.”

He did it again. And again. Soon he was groaning with each thrust, but the sound was pained, as if he were getting punched in the stomach at the end of each one—or cutting himself off.

I’d think about all this—later. “Don’t stop!”

As he shoved against my pussy, I muttered incomprehensible things, switching from one language back to the other, struggling to communicate that I was on the verge. “Oh, my God. Ay, Dios mío.”

“You’re about to come?” he asked in a strained voice.

“About to combust!” I clasped his face with both hands.

Our gazes locked. His was still defiant and angry, his chin jutting stubbornly—even as he met my undulations.

“No, no, cariño.” Rubbing my thumb over his bottom lip, I whispered, “No te pongas bravo conmigo. Don’t be angry with me. We’ll both feel good soon.” I leaned down and covered his mouth with my own. His lips were firm and hot. I licked the seam of them, whimpering. My movements quickened until I was bucking over the Russian’s cock.

He parted his lips; the tip of my tongue found his, the spark that set off—

Pleasure. Exploding. Electrifying me.

Currents sizzled through my veins to make way for . . . fire.

“Mmmm!” I cried out into his mouth. Bliss engulfed me, forcing my hips to gyrate on him. Lost, I rubbed my tits against his chest. I moaned, riding him like a toy as my pussy contracted over and over.

Only as sanity returned and the spasms faded did I realize he wasn’t returning the kiss. I drew back.

He’d gone completely still. That strain within him only grew. “You kissed me. You came. That was not supposed to happen.”

“It was the heat of the moment. No te pongas—”

He wrapped my hair around his fist, forcing me closer till our lips met.

When I gasped, he set in with a fervor. He kissed as if he hadn’t taken a woman’s lips in years, as if he’d only been storing up need. I panted; he heaved breaths. His hands dropped to clench my half-bare ass.

A growl sounded from his chest. An actual growl. The idea of inspiring that kind of lust turned me on so much, my arousal returned multiplied. I held his face between my hands and sucked on his tongue. He groaned, his fingers digging into my curves as I started grinding on him again.

I broke away for a breath. “What are you doing to me?”

“I could ask you the same,” he bit out in a baffled tone. “I detest surprises. I don’t tolerate them. And yet . . .” His brows drew together. He looked . . . not calculating, but something akin to that—as if he were working out the angles of a problem. “Still here,” he muttered to himself. He yanked me close, burying his face against my breasts, lips seeking.

I arched to his mouth.

“The moment I saw these pouty nipples, I feared I couldn’t let you go until I’d sucked them.”

Feared? Why would he . . . My thoughts grew dim when he turned his head to take a nipple between his lips, dragging his tongue over the sensitive peak. When he suckled it with a groan, I cried out, “Finally!” I was on fire again! Raw inside. Needing more.

He turned to the other one, muttering, “So sweet and plump. They tease my tongue.” Once he’d left that one wet and aching as well, he pulled me back to face him, excitement in his expression. “All of this is acceptable.”

“I-I certainly think so.”

“Very acceptable.”

Okay? What was going on here? I sensed in him a seething need for me, barely contained—and building. Another woman might fear it; I drank it in like wine.

“Ah, little Cat.” A gleam shone in his wicked blue eyes. “You’re about to get fucked. Hard.”


He laid me back on the couch, looming over me, predatory. Without warning, he grabbed both of my ankles in one of his hands, lifting my body up as he snatched my thong off and tossed the silk away.

“Spread your thighs.”

Confused by this turnaround, I tentatively did. Eyes riveted to my pussy, he licked his lips. “So lush. I can see your need. Did you enjoy the orgasm you stole?”


He knelt on the couch, reaching between my legs. He ran his forefinger along my lips, spreading my moisture, then rubbed me right over my entrance.

My lids went heavy as I watched his face. His gaze was keen with fascination as I grew even wetter for him. I got the impression that he hadn’t fingered a girl in forever. Of course, his “script” hadn’t called for it.

He teased my opening until I was squirming, about to shove myself down on his finger. “You just get wetter and wetter. I could make you come again, only from this.”

Yes, but I’d lose my mind! “Más. Give me more, Máxim.”

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