“You,” I gasp.
“Fuck, I belong to you—”
His other hand grips my chin, forcing my mouth open. Then he’s spitting into it, the warm, slick heat of his saliva dripping down my tongue. I swallow automatically, my cock twitching.
“Dirty whore,” he praises, his hips snapping against my ass.
“Tell me how much you love my cock.”
“I love it,” I moan, my voice breaking.
“Love your fucking cock, Daddy, please, I can’t anymore—”
He fucks me harder, his balls slapping against me with each thrust. The sound is wet, obscene. His fingers dig into my hips, bruising. I can feel the orgasm building, coiling tight in my gut. My cock is leaking, desperate for release. But he won’t let me. Not yet.
His rhythm stutters. His breath comes in sharp, ragged gasps. Then he’s pulling out, his cock slipping free with a wet pop. His hands shove me down, forcing me onto my knees, my ass still in the air. The first rope of cum hits my cheek, hot and thick. Another lands on my lips, dripping down my chin. I stick out my tongue, catching the rest of it.
His cock twitches, painting my face with the last of it. His thumb smudges cum across my bottom lip, pushing it into my mouth.
“Good boy,” he murmurs, his voice rough with satisfaction.
Then I look down and see that I also came as this man’s cum was painting my face.
Then he’s stepping back. The bed shifts as he moves away. The click of his zipper. The whisper of fabric. The door opens, then closes with a quiet, final thud.
I stay there, kneeling in the mess we left behind, my cock still hard, still aching. The cum on my face is drying, tight and sticky. My hole throbs.
Some guy in a mask with a huge cock just fucked me, which was the best sex in my life, and just left. I truly feel like a whore right now.
Because, I mean, he paid to own me. So, technically, he wasn’t wrong when he called me that. And if I'm being totally honest, I loved it, and would let him call me that again.
Because this was the most mind-blowing, life-changing moment of my life.
And I’ve never felt so fucking alive.
Now, the only thing I need to know is who is hiding behind the mask?
CHAPTER 7
HARLEY
I woke up slowly this time. No panic. No sharp pull at my wrists. No cold metal biting into my skin. Just… warmth.
Soft sheets beneath me. The faint scent of something expensive—clean, masculine, a little smoky—still clinging to the air.
For a second, I don’t move.
I just lie there, staring at the ceiling, letting my body catch up to my brain.
And then—
It hits me. Last night. My stomach tightens. Not from fear. From memory. Fragments at first. Hands.Hishands. His voice—low, rough, commanding in a way that made something deep inside me unravel completely.
The way he told me what to do. And how easily I listened.
Heat creeps up my neck.
Fuck.