His Wicked Love

by Anya Summers

  Mason shook his head. “She doesn’t need to know. At least not yet.”

  Cole raised a brow at him. “You intend on claiming her before all and sundry at the club tonight but haven’t told her about Claire yet? That you two were involved?”

  “Claire and I weren’t serious, little more than fuck buddies. It’s none of your business what I do or don’t tell my sub. It’s for me to decide when I shed light on that relationship. And right now, until the legal case is resolved, she doesn’t need to know. It’s for her protection,” Mason stated.

  “You keep telling yourself that.” Cole shoved his chair back and stood, giving him a patronizing glare before he left the house.

  Mason stood in the kitchen, his mind churning. Claire was free, while the lodge was barely paying its bills and eking out a living. The unfairness of it, that she’d played him for a fool. He wasn’t lying when he said they’d been little more than fuck buddies. Had he had tender feelings for her while they were banging each other? Sure. As he did for any submissive. But it hadn’t been deep or meant to be long term. Their relationship had been surface variety only. He’d preferred it that way. And so had she, if truth be told.

  After scarfing down the breakfast Emily had left for him—biscuits, turkey bacon, which he’d never been a fan of until Emily, and warm cinnamon apples—Mason headed to the lodge. On the walk over, Cole’s words burned a hole in his gut. Emily knew that Claire had stolen from the lodge. She didn’t need to know that he and Claire had been together. Not yet. Not until he was certain of her feelings.

  He would have to come clean eventually. Mason wanted to ensure that their relationship was solid and then he would confess. Until then, it was his job as her Dom to shield her from harm, including his less than stellar past.

  Chapter 21

  Emily shivered as they entered the Teton Cowboy. Mason’s palm was pressed against her lower back like a possessive brand. It gave her a little thrill.

  All day, she’d worried about tonight. Mason had gone into explicit detail about what he planned to do with her tonight in their club. He was going to de-virginize her back channel for everyone to see. Heat flushed up her cheeks. She’d been in a constant state of blushing since she’d woken this morning, enough so that both Tibby and Faith had commented on her state.

  Emily’s pulse fluttered as Mason guided her through the throngs of people here on a Friday night. The country music was a lively tune, playing over loudspeakers. The myriad conversations and animated voices of people having a good time created a dull roar. At the entrance to Cuffs & Spurs, after a wink from Derrick, who was guarding the private lower level, Mason towed her down the stairs. Her breath caught in her throat.

  Emily had never thought she’d be interested in anal sex, let alone consider having it in front of a bunch of people. But since Mason’s advent into her life, and into her bed, he had proven all her theories about herself erroneous. Every night for the past week, he’d used a butt plug on her during their bedroom activities. Each night, the plug had been larger, stretching her back channel. The combined sensations of Mason screwing her brains out with the plug in her ass were incredible. The pleasure was nearly indescribable. The Big Bang had nothing on the potency of her climaxes.

  Emily trusted Mason. In everything he’d shown her since becoming her Dominant, he’d never faltered. She reveled in the pride in his caramel gaze and preened with pleasure over his praise. Even when there had been instances and certain practices she hadn’t cared for, like flogging—because, holy shit, ow! She loved being restrained in bed, or anywhere else, for that matter. She loved giving Mason full control in the bedroom. The way he would look at her once her hands were bound, his gaze infused with salacious intent.

  That didn’t mean she didn’t feel trepidation over the scene they were about to do because she did, in great heaping spoonfuls.

  Yet, the way he’d looked at her, with pride and possessiveness, both in the cab of his truck and now, as he escorted her into the club, gave her courage. Made her feel that she could do this, perform a public scene with him. He’d illuminated parts of her that she’d not realized existed.

  She’d always enjoyed sex, even though it had always been a bit blasé. Not so with Mason. Sex with him was downright epic and world altering. The way he drew responses out of her, the way she craved his touch, it was like the Earth stood still, and all other life ceased to exist so that only she and Mason were present in time and space. Emily’s snack cake addiction had transferred to him. He was the fix she needed every day—sometimes more than once a day.

  She couldn’t get through a day without him. The voraciousness of her appetite always surprised her. How minutes after a rowdy, wicked bout, sweat slicking her form, her body still shuddering from her climax, desire would stampede back to life.

  They separated briefly into the locker rooms, where Emily stored her purse and knee length pea-coat that she’d worn to hide what she was wearing underneath. Her choice of clothing was not something she’d want to wear on public streets. She had on a black leather mini dress. And it really was mini; it stopped at her upper thighs. The bodice of the dress was a halter style number which left her back bare.

  She rejoined Mason outside the locker rooms. He’d stored his coat and shirt. She sighed. Mason shirtless made her ovaries break into song. The chiseled hard planes of his chest made her fingers itch to touch him. But here, now, tonight, she had to restrain her urges and give him what he needed. Her submission.

  “Relax,” Mason murmured at her temple as he slid his arm around her waist. His fingers grazed the exposed flesh on her lower back and she bit back a moan. She loved his hands on her. The rough callouses never ceased to stir tendrils of heat to life.

  “I’m trying to, Sir,” she whispered, even as her hands shook.

  “You’ll do fine tonight,” he said, towing her back into the club proper and over toward a table that had another couple sitting at it. The guy had to be one of the biggest men she’d ever seen. All lanky, Jimmy Stewart-ish, he made the table and chairs appear miniature. He was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, with his dark chestnut hair that was nearly black. His strong jaw was lined with a few days’ growth of stubble. His dark hazel gaze was framed by thick black eyebrows.

  The man’s arm was curled around the blonde woman at his side. She was stunning in her club gear, in a matching set of red leather bra and panties and nothing else. Her light blue eyes were framed by thick, inky lashes, her lips were curled up in a soft, loving smile at the man at her side.

  “Carter,” Mason said.

  “Mason. Good to see you. And who’s this?” the giant said, holding out a hand for him to shake, nodding in Emily’s direction. She couldn’t help it. She blushed. Her cleavage was nearly popping out of the top of her dress and she was certain that, if she sat, he would get a clear view of her pussy if she wasn’t careful.

  “This is Emily. Chef out at the Elkhorn and my sub,” Mason stated, pride lacing his voice along with a possessive tenderness that curled inside her chest.

  Carter eyed him speculatively before he flashed her a kind smile.

  “Emily, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Carter, and this is my wife, Jenna,” he said, indicating the beautiful blonde at his side.

  “Hi. It’s nice to meet you both,” she replied.

  “How’s Liam doing?” Mason asked as they slid into the empty chairs. Emily fidgeted with the hem of her dress, trying to make it cover more until she finally gave up. If she pulled it down any further, it would expose her tits. So, given the choice between tits or ass, she went with ass. Not that it mattered. Soon enough, everyone would see all there was to see of her wicked bits.

  “Teething. Jenna’s sister Meghan is watching him for us tonight so we could get away,” Carter explained.

  “How old is he now?” Mason asked.

  “Six months. Hard to believe he’s so big already. And growing more into Carter’s spitting image every day. You would think afte
r carrying him for nine months that he would look like he came from me, but nope,” Jenna said with a small chuckle and glance at her husband.

  “Oh, I think he has your ears, love. So Emily, where are you from? I’ve heard through the grapevine you’re not local,” Carter said, his gaze inquisitive.

  “Los Angeles, Orange County to be exact,” Emily replied. Her hands were clutched in her lap.

  “And how are you finding life in Wyoming?” Carter asked.

  She shot Mason a glance before she replied, “It’s different than I thought it would be. There are adjustments, to be certain. I miss my friends but I’m enjoying myself here.”

  “Is your family in LA?” Carter inquired.

  “They are,” she said. The last thing she wanted to discuss was her family. Her mom had called that afternoon asking Emily when she was going to get serious and get a real job. They just didn’t understand her need to create, her love of working in kitchens. It was an uphill, frustrating battle. Any time she spoke with them, she always regretted it. Emily didn’t fit with them, as hard as she’d tried to. There were days when it made her incredibly maudlin. But then she got over it, usually with a snack cake or two, and moved on.

  Emily couldn’t help but notice that Carter’s hand had slid beneath his wife’s red leather panties. Or the way Jenna sat with her eyes half closed, her mouth parted in pleasure as Carter said, “And we haven’t scared you off yet?”

  “Not so far,” Emily said, fidgeting at the unanticipated arousal at the sight of Carter pleasuring his wife in front of her. It combined with the scattered moans from couples already engaged in the scene areas. She understood the appeal of the club, now that Mason had awakened her to the lifestyle. How it wasn’t just about the scene you did with a partner, but hearing other couples, seeing them lose themselves to ecstasy. It was a potent and heady drug.

  Her leather halter abraded her stiff nipples as she shifted.

  “Well, we’re looking forward to coming to Oktoberfest next weekend. We plan on bringing our son with us.”

  “He might be a bit young for some of our events, but I’m sure your family will enjoy the festivities,” Emily said.

  Mason rubbed her back and interjected, “Our scene area just opened up.”

  Carter said, “Ours too. It was a pleasure to finally meet you, Emily. Mason, good to see you. Enjoy your evening.”

  “You do the same,” Mason said with a nod toward his friend.

  He stood and pulled Emily up from her seat. She let him. Her knees shook. Then he slid an arm around her waist and whisked her over to the scene area that contained the sawhorse. Inside the perimeter of the scene area was a small chest of drawers on the right, as well as the wooden sawhorse. The top of the sawhorse was padded and covered with black leather. It stood perpendicular to the wall beyond. There were silver metal loops at various points that Emily knew Mason would use to attach her cuffs to, along with her ankles. Yet it was the full-length mirror on the wall directly beyond that gave her pause. Tremors wracked her frame. She couldn’t help being nervous. With the mirror, she’d be able to see all the people looking at her while Mason screwed her back channel.

  “Disrobe for me, Em,” Mason ordered.

  With trembling fingers, she unbuttoned the straps of her halter around her neck and let them fall. Then she unzipped the back of her dress and shoved the material down to her feet, until she stood in nothing but her black lace panties and black heels. She stepped out of her heels, then picked them up along with her dress and stored them on top of the chest of drawers.

  She stood in nothing but her panties, her hands clenched at her sides. She glanced at the crowd in the club and panic rose in her breast. She wanted to cover herself and escape. There were men and women staring at her nearly nude body.

  Mason stepped in front of her, blocking out the other patrons.

  “Eyes on me. Don’t pay attention to anyone else but me,” he ordered. She focused on his bare chest. That was good. She loved Mason’s chest. But she couldn’t seem to block out the sounds of the club and the nearby couples in the throes of passion.

  “Good, now give me your hands. I’m going to restrain you to the sawhorse now, all right?”

  All she could do was nod her head. Her tongue stuck in her suddenly dry mouth. Her heartbeat beat a staccato rhythm. She worried that she was going to start hyperventilating at any moment. She tried to lift her wrists, but her body wouldn’t seem to work on her command as fear grabbed hold.

  “Sir? I don’t know that I can do this,” she said, a sob lodged in her throat. She was thoroughly ashamed and bent her head. Typically she had no problem conquering new challenges and didn’t allow fear to guide her actions. But it was choking her right now. And she couldn’t seem to move past it.

  That’s when Mason’s arms slid around her. There was comfort in them, strength that she leaned into and soaked up like a cat soaking up some sunlight. One of his big hands cupped her cheek and tipped her face up until her gaze met his. Warmth and concern filled his stare as he murmured, “You’re doing just fine. Deep breaths for me. I will be with you every step of the way.”

  She gulped in air, and knew she was likely impersonating a fish out of water. Mason stroked her cheek with his thumb, then lowered his mouth over hers. The moment his firm lips brushed against hers, she moaned. This was what she needed from him. This connection making the rest of the club cease to exist. His tongue stroked over her bottom lip, seeking entrance. Under his coaxing, she opened for him.

  His hands caressed the lines of her back while he kissed her brainless. Pleasure slithered in her veins. Her body went fluid at his touch.

  He cupped the globes of her breasts in his big hands and rasped a thumb across her nipples. He kissed her and her world boiled down to him. It had never been this way with any other man. And she had the sneaking suspicion he was the only one who would ever command such a response from her body.

  When Mason finally lifted his head and ended the kiss, Emily whimpered at the loss. He flashed her a carnal grin, his gaze shrouded with lust.

  Then he drew her over to the sawhorse. Gently he positioned her body, bending her at the waist, and settling her torso lengthwise over the padding, where he then fastened her wrist cuffs to loops on the top end. This lifted her chest up and meant she would be looking directly at the mirror. Then he drew her panties down her legs before they were spread over the back V of the sawhorse and Mason placed her ankles into leather restraints.

  In this position, her pussy was on display for the entire crowd. She couldn’t move, couldn’t shield herself from prying eyes, couldn’t do anything. Her anxiety rocketed to withering heights. Her hands were clenched into fists. People were looking at her. She didn’t know if she could do this. She jerked against her restraints and almost lost her nerve, her safeword on the tip of her tongue.

  But Mason knelt before her and kissed her again. His kiss was hungry and erotic, a heady combination of tongue and teeth. His tongue thrust with ardent fervor to initiate a heated duel with hers. Emily felt her body go pliant at his touch.

  When he broke the kiss, his breathing was uneven. He ordered, “Eyes on me the whole time. Keep them on me and only me. Understood?”

  She nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

  He kissed the tip of her nose before he stood.

  She shivered at the innocuous sweet touch, considering where they were and what they were about to do, it was unexpected, and she felt it clear to her toes. In the mirror’s reflection, she watched, her gaze trained on his face. She watched as he touched her. Caressed the lines of her back, stroking over her flesh and stoking her internal forge to life. As he fondled her, the rest of the world dimmed.

  His hands, his big, rough hands that she adored, caressed her bum. He drew his fingers through her slit and she gasped. With the pads of his fingers, he teased her clit. Circled the bud, creating jolts of electricity that caused her pussy to quake in eager anticipation. Flicked his digits over the nub and she mo
aned before he penetrated her sheath with two fingers. She mewled in the back of her throat. Then he lowered his head. At the first touch of his tongue against her anus, she gasped. It was carnal and wicked. She’d never thought he would put his tongue there. Then he rimmed her rosette, laving his tongue over it while his fingers pumped in her pussy.

  When his tongue pressed against her back channel and slipped inside the taut ring of muscle, she moaned at the exquisite delight. This was new. With his tongue, he stretched her, much in the same fashion as the butt plugs he’d had her wear this week. Yet it had a different feel. The heat of his tongue as he thrust, the warm puffs of his breath against her skin, created a pleasure so intense it blurred the edges of her vision.

  Her lids grew heavy. Mason didn’t hold back and the potent nature of their joining flowed between them. It was always present, but this felt like something more. The look of ecstasy on his face. His dark, lust filled gaze stared at hers in the mirror. Emily’s body walked a tightrope of pleasure.

  The dual sensations were too much for her to hold on for long. Emily came. Hard and unexpectedly.

  “Sir,” she cried as her pussy spasmed around his digits and her back channel clenched around his tongue.

  Mason lifted his face and straightened behind her. She watched as he withdrew his hand from her pussy and sucked the fingers coated with her juices into his mouth.

  Then he shifted and withdrew a small tube from the back pocket of his jeans. He coated her back hole with lube and did the same with two of his fingers, then pressed them against the opening of her channel. She groaned deep in the back of her throat as his fingers pressed inside and penetrated her anus.

  She couldn’t believe how much she loved the sensation. Mason thrust his two fingers and stretched her, his wicked gaze dark and suffused with lust. Her body trembled. She was hot. Her rear clenched at his fingers as they pumped inside her. It made her feel like she was floating. Like she was resting on charged air, which made every nerve ending come alive and tingle.