All Mine (5 page)

Your answer was to push hard against
me, driving me in deeper, but I didn't hear the words I wanted. I
reached under and pinched your ass hard, making you
squeal.

"I'm not kidding, you
stubborn little bitch. I'm not saying this to hear myself talk. Beg
me to fuck you."

At first I couldn't make
out the words, but when I gave your ass another hard pinch, I heard
what you were saying. "Speak up, I can't hear you. What did you
say?"

"I said, please fuck me. I
want it…I need it. Please fuck me. Please."

Finally, the words I'd
longed to hear. I dug into your ass harder, my hands starting to
leave red marks of heat on your skin.

"Louder, you little whore.
Speak up," I ordered.

To encourage you, my free
hand went between your legs, rubbing it in firm, teasing circles,
flicking the hard little tightness against my
fingertips.

"God…yes…please…please
fuck me…Jesus, that feels so good…don’t stop…"

The rest was more of the
same, but no less sweet to my ears. The language your body spoke as
it thrashed and bucked under me was ancient and primitive,
understood across time and cultures without end.

There was a low, burring
sound that I couldn’t quite place. When one of your legs wrapped
tightly around my waist, I understood. It was the sound of a very
expensive silk tie ripping beyond repair.

"Goddamn, you’re strong."
I took your face in my hands and held you for my kiss. Your tongue
met mine with equal passion, probing and gentle.

"Yes, I am," you murmured
into my mouth, then that well-shaped, muscular leg was pulling me
into you as deep as you could. Underneath me I felt your body
grinding, working me the way a seasoned stripper might work a
pole.

"How close are you,
Jenna?" I asked for the second time tonight. I hoped the answer was
"very." I didn’t know how much longer I could last.

"I already came a little,"
you admitted as you trapped me in your churning, delicious heat.
"But I could go again."

"You little bitch!" I
couldn’t help laughing at the one-up-on you smile that curled your
lips. "That was nothing, a warm-up. You haven’t taken the whole
ride."

I curled my fingers in
your hair, holding your head and forcing your eyes to stay locked
with mine. "All the way. Do it with me, Jenna. Do it. Right when
you feel me cum."

Mercilessly I pounded into
you. When you woke tomorrow, you would know that you'd been used.
Claimed. Marked as my own.

Your eyes began to widen, your mouth
opening in a dazed, here-it-comes-again expression. I increased the
pace, trying to catch up, feeling the rush roaring through
me.

"Last part of the game,
Jenna," I gasped. "Say my name when you go. Or I’ll stop and not
let you finish. You understand?" I stopped, pressing you down hard.
My balls groaned at the delay, but I heard the answering moan from
you, too.

"What should I call you?"
Your voice trembled.

I smiled down into your
eyes, feeling the mischief in my own. "How about Master? Yeah, I
like the sound of that. Call me your Master, Jenna."

"I’ve never called anyone
that. I’m not going to start tonight." Your words were defiant, but
wild desire strained your body under mine.

I began to move my hips in
slow rotations against you, touching every secret inch inside of
you. It was torture, but worth it as I felt you trying to make me
move faster, to give you the deeper release you craved.

My fingers tightened in
your hair again, and my eyes were locked on yours. I was starting
to lose it, starting to hit that long-awaited peak. "Say it, Jenna.
Say it, or so help me God, I’ll --"

Those beautiful, cat-green
eyes flew wide as you begged for release. "Master, oh fuck, please
let me, don’t make me wait, please…please…"

There might have been
more, but your tumbled words and the throb of your deepest muscles
around me drove everything else away. I strained inside you as hard
as I could, feeling the strangling grip around my waist from the
leg you’d managed to work free.

I tried to hold down my
own noise, but your primal scream as you came must have been heard
out in the yard and down the street. Maybe on the next block. It
was a damn good thing I’d chosen Halloween for this.

Slowly I sank down onto
the softness of your body. The air in the bedroom was hot and
close, scented with sex and yes, candy. Shades of Marcy
Playground.

I held myself still,
letting your muscles milk every last drop out of me, leaving me
drained and sticky. I was reluctant to stop, to get dressed, to
make the fast exit the script demanded.

"Good girl, my good little
girl," I whispered against your ear. The corners of your mouth
turned up in a well-known Mona Lisa smile. "I think you might love
that asshole Alex after all."

I kissed you, tasting sex and
cinnamon. Where our bodies were still joined, there was a gentle,
throbbing squeeze as you held me in your creamy heat.

"Yes, I do. Very, very
much," you sighed. That soft little voice made me groan again. I
reached up to untie your hands, but the sound of another rip made
me pause.

If I wasn’t mistaken, that
was the sound of someone losing his second-favorite tie. Both of
your legs were now locked around my waist, holding me inside of
you. The sweet rhythm made me close my eyes and sigh.

"What’s your hurry?" you
asked. You smiled up at me, your long legs rocking me against you.
"Do you have somewhere else to be?"

"Just a party. I don’t
have to be there on time." I framed your face in my hands, looking
deeply into your eyes.

"I love you, Jenna," I
told you. "I'm not going to lose you. Do you hear me? No more long
nights alone. No more separate lives. Fuck the fast
track."

"Welcome home, Alex."
Tears sparkled in your eyes, but you smiled as your lips brushed
against my throat. Then your legs were caressing my body again,
pulling me closer.

"So you found at least one
of my stories in the trash. I guess I didn’t tear it up enough."
There was mischief in your eyes, and a sparkle I hadn’t seen in a
very long time.

"You make a good stalker,"
you teased, "but did you make it to any of the other stories? Are
there any other strangers I need to worry about
tonight?"

My cock stirred as I held
you closer. "There
were
some others I happened to read…"

* * * *

The party was in full
swing when Jenna arrived. Her best friend met her at the bar as
planned. Her greeting kiss left a black mark on Jenna's cheek. It
was the Goth thing to do.

"You’re so late, but I
love the costume! Where’s Alex?"

Jenna ordered a Chalk Hill
Pinot Gris. "He left pretty early this afternoon. I did candy duty
alone tonight."

Stacey’s face was
sympathetic.

"Again, huh? That’s a
shame, chica. But we’ll have fun no matter what. Best costume
contest is at midnight. First prize is a bottle of Silver Oak. The
way you have that shirt draped, you might win."

Then she peered more
closely. "Holy shit. You don’t even have any buttons on it. You
sure like to live on the edge."

Jenna laughed as she
glanced casually around the crowd. Across the teeming hotel
ballroom, a dark figure was watching. Ice-blue eyes met hers as he
lifted his drink to her in a silent toast.

Stacey stared. "Wow, check
out that body. I didn’t know Death could be so hot. Do you know
him? He sure seems to know you."

Jenna shrugged. "Hard to
tell with the mask."

She took her wine from the
bartender and returned the toast. Death bowed with formal
exaggeration. Several nearby women looked at him with admiration
and moist-lipped smiles, but his eyes never left her.

"You better be careful,"
Stacey joked. "He looks like a man who gets what he wants. He might
follow you home. What would Alex make of that?"

Jenna smiled.

"That’s a good question,"
she said.

The End

If you liked this story,
please keep reading for an excerpt from MASTERFUL by Jesse
Joren.

MASTERFUL

Jesse Joren

Copyright © 2015 Jesse
Joren

ISBN-10: 1512141550

ISBN-13: 978-1512141559

All rights reserved. No part of this
book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner
whatsoever without prior written permission from the author. Brief
quotations for critical articles and reviews are
excepted.

This is a work of fiction. Names,
places, characters, etc. are either created by the author or used
in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to real-life persons,
situations, etc. is purely coincidental.

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APRIL 23

PROLOGUE

Tonight I've committed
serious crimes. Quite a few, actually, but no one is better than me
at not getting caught. Sometimes the only way to set things right
is to break every rule.

Darkness has folded around
me like the old friend it is. Soon she'll be home, but she doesn't
know I'm here. By now I know her habits almost better than my
own.

She thinks she's a free
spirit without patterns, but everyone believes that. Realizing that
common mistake made my fortune. Exploiting it gives me
power.

Finding her has taken a
lot of time and expense. She's worth it, but she doesn't know that
either. Everything is about to change for you, Evangeline
Bright.

Yes, I know your real
name. I know everything you hid from me, and even from yourself.
Whatever I have to do – for you or to you – you're going to see
things my way.

Or else.

CHAPTER ONE

When I unlocked my apartment late that
Friday night, I stopped with my keys still swinging from my
hand.

Something was different.

A dim beam from the outer hallway
light cut into the darkness of my small living room. The deadbolt
had been locked when I pushed in my key. The security system had
beeped when I entered the code.

There was no back door to worry about.
My second-story windows were safe unless Spiderman had turned to a
life of crime.

Nothing was out of place. There was
silence except for the hum of the fridge and the ever-present throb
of Atlanta traffic.

It was all very ordinary. After two
years I knew every creak and every scent in every
corner.

But my guard was up. Way, way up.
Something was in the air that had nothing to do with my
life.

A primitive part of me suddenly spoke
up.

Run, Eva. Right now. Even
if you feel stupid later.

My mind fluttered for a logical
reason, found one, seized it with relief.

Maintenance had finally replaced the
carpet last month. It looked better, but there was still a faintly
unpleasant chemical after-smell.

How stupid to let that worry me. I was
getting paranoid at the ripe old age of twenty-two.

It's not the same, and you
know it.

"Stop being a chicken," I muttered,
reaching for the light switch.

Click-click-click. Nothing.

A shadow moved behind the door,
knocking it shut. A strong hand caught the back of my head as a
cloth covered my face.

Keen scent filled my nose and throat.
That was it. The thing that didn't belong here.

Fucking security system. I
want a refund.

That childish, useless thought
followed me into unconsciousness.

               

"Wake up, Eva."

Grayness was inside my head as I
considered that voice. Deep and male, a hint of rasp.

A cool curve of glass touched my dry
lips. Suddenly I was swallowing cold water on reflex.

The brain fog scared me. Something was
happening. Something bad. A single thought burst forward with
half-awake urgency.

Face. Don't…look
at…face…

I squeezed my eyes shut as hard as I
could. Pressure starbursts bloomed behind my eyelids.

"I don't have a lot of money," I
croaked. "It's in the bathroom, taped under the sink. Just take it
and go. I didn't see your face."

His low chuckle stroked my
ears.

"I don't need your money. Or your car
keys. Or your jewelry, if those are your next offers. Open your
eyes. I'm not going to kill you."

The fog was fading faster as I woke
up. I was on my back in what felt like my bed. My arms were
restrained over my head.