The Master Read Online Free Page B

making my own
accent thicken even more. My stiffened nipples brushed the fine cashmere of his sweater, which felt incredible, so I skimmed them again.
    What would it take to get this man’s mouth on my breasts? When I imagined him sucking me . . . a soft moan escaped my lips, my back subtly arching.
    He clamped his hand over my nape. “What kind of escort brazenly denies a client? You’re either starving at this job—or making a fortune. . . .” He trailed off when I
rolled my hips, running my pussy over his cock, with only my moistened panties and his slacks between us.
    I gasped at the sensation, breaths shallowing. My clitoris began to throb.
    He drew his hands away, resting his arms over the back of the couch again, as if he’d made a conscious decision not to touch me. I got the impression that I was being tested
somehow—or that
he
was. “Put your hands behind your back. Now.”
    He probably expected me to clasp my elbows. “Of course.” Instead, I dropped my hands directly behind my ass, grasping high on his thighs to hold my balance.
    He tensed again, but before he could say another word, I whipped my hips over his length. My head fell back as I moaned. I’d forgotten how irresistible sexual play could be, had forgotten
about uncontrollable urges and the hardness of a man’s body.
    I faced the Russian, beginning to ride him. Though his gaze was rapt on our point of contact, he refused to move his own hips to meet me. No matter. The bulge of his zipper had lined up with my
swollen clitoris, my soaked panties rubbing that bud.
Fricción!
Sultry, damp friction . . . sent me ever closer to orgasm. Soon I was panting, grinding him like a pole dancer.
    He clutched the couch, his long fingers gone white-knuckled. “Is this what you think I need?” His voice alone could make me come. The husky timbre had only deepened. “To be
ridden?”
    “I think you need passion.” I certainly did.
    “Maybe if it wasn’t feigned.”
    I nearly laughed. “Oh, I’m not feigning anything.” How to tell him I would climax soon?
    “Wait.” He seized my shimmying hips, holding me still. “Up.”
    Confused, I put my hands on his shoulders and rose up on my knees. Was he kicking me off again? Then I followed his narrow-eyed gaze.
    His slacks, which probably cost thousands, now had a damp spot over his groin. I’d wetted him through my panties.
    I should have been worried about his reaction, but I was too far gone to care. I dropped as low as his hands would allow, wanting my pussy back atop his hot hardness.
    He grated, “
Blyad´!
” Whatever that meant. “You’re truly wet for me. Very wet. You’ve been using me to get off?”
    “
Por Dios
, why are you talking so much?” I said between breaths. “Want to come,
Ruso
.”
    He blinked at me. The cool, detached Russian looked stunned. “Then by all means.” He released his grip. “Continue.”
    “
Gracias.
” I sighed with relief, letting my nipples skim his chest on my way down. If he’d allowed that . . . I threaded my fingers through his hair and leaned in to
kiss his neck. When I gave a little suck over his pulse point, his head tipped back.
    I lost the ridge of his zipper, so I writhed atop him, hunting for it. Had his hips finally moved? Did he want that contact too?
    I found the perfect spot. “
Ay, perfección.
”
    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