The Master Read Online Kresley Cole (The Game Maker #2)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Bad Boy, BDSM, Drama, Erotic, Fantasy/Sci-fi, New Adult, Paranormal, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: The Game Maker Series by Kresley Cole
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Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 100417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
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“Oh, my God!”

“When pleasure makes you mindless, you think of only one name. Mine.” His words tipped me over the edge.

I screamed, “Máxim!”

His fingers moved even faster, sending me into a frenzy, the waves of my climax overwhelming me. I clutched the bar for dear life, writhing, gyrating my hips.

“That’s it, baby, that’s it. Take your pleasure from me.”

I did. Over and over.

My cries slowly dwindled. Once I was hanging limply, my body a quivering mass, he withdrew his finger to grip my hips.

Holding me in place, he stretched over my back and shoved hard inside my pussy. In a hoarse voice, he said, “I could fuck you forever, beautiful girl. I want you to come on me again.” As he brutally surged into me, his balls slapped my clit. He railed me with all his might, going deeper with each thrust. I could only hold on for the ride.

He opened his mouth over my shoulder, almost biting me, like an animal. The touch of his teeth to my flesh—

My scream ripped through the enclosure. His cock was so swollen, my spasms could barely squeeze around it.

He snarled against me, driving harder. He released my shoulder to bellow, “Taking it from me! AHH!” He roared to the ceiling as he began to ejaculate, his fingers digging into my skin. His shaft, his legs, and his hips rammed into my body.

One savage shove. Another. And another.

Until a satisfied groan sounded from his chest.

Gradually, his shudders eased, but he remained inside me, as if reluctant to leave. He coiled an arm around my waist. “Let go, dushen’ka.” With difficulty, I made my fingers release the bar, and he pulled me up against him.

His breaths tickled my damp neck. His heart thundered against my back. One of his hands lightly covered my throat. He filled his other palm with a breast.

He was content to rest like this—as if being with me were the most natural thing in the world.

As if I were his long-term lover, his girlfriend. When he nuzzled my neck and pressed kisses to my shoulder, I found myself wishing I could be.

His phone rang yet again as I dried off and donned my new silk robe.

“My brothers.” He sighed, wrapping a towel around his waist. “I hope you’re happy. Mobsters gossip worse than old women.”

“I always heard that old women gossiped worse than mobsters.” In front of the mirror, I combed out my hair, trying to act casual about what he’d done to me. He’d told me he owned me. For that space of time, he had. Máxim continued to give me fantasies—ones I hadn’t even known were mine. “What will you tell your brothers about me?” I met his gaze in the reflection.

“That I’ve purchased a young Miami woman, enslaving her in my penthouse.”

Ha. “And what will they have to say about that?”

“My older brother won’t believe me. My younger will see absolutely nothing wrong with this—as long as I don’t get attached.” Dmitri. The one who brought him daily bouts of grief.

“While it’s all fun and games to brag that you’ve purchased a woman, surely you’re done with me by now. You did say you would shake this.”

As if I hadn’t spoken, Sevastyan left the bathroom, returning shortly after. “Before I forget . . .” He held up the chastity belt, modified once more.

I gasped. This time there were two plugs.

CHAPTER 22

Sevastyan was setting me up for a crash landing. And I resented it.

As I changed into my new running gear, I recalled awakening this morning—cocooned by his warmth, his arms like a shield around me.

Before him, I’d been cold and alone and wary. Guess what Catarina was returning to in four days.

It’d be all the worse because I’d tasted a different life. I’d tasted the wickedest pleasures.

Yesterday, he’d kept me in the belt for only a couple of hours, both of us too miserable to deny ourselves for much longer. I’d been on fire, and he’d been more than my match, taking me four times over the afternoon and night.

His shower play and the second addition to the belt had left my bottom sore today—but the constant reminder of what he’d done to me turned me on anew.

A brilliant, gorgeous, billionaire sex god shouldn’t amuse himself by playing with a woman’s feelings. Maybe I’d made an error deciding on this retreat. He would let me go on the twenty-eighth—of that I was sure. If the boundary between our bodies had fallen, somehow I had to maintain the one around my heart until then.

With that thought in mind, I snagged the marker I’d hidden in a shoe box, then marched to the master bathroom to add one more slash.

Beside my marks on the mirror, the bastard had written: It’s so good you should be paying me.

I could all but hear him saying that in his seductive devil’s voice, and it made me tremble. How dare he take over the mirror! That was my gig! Narrowing my eyes, I drew a seventh slash, then wrote: You’re gonna miss this ass when it’s gone.

I left the marker by his toothbrush—your move, Ruso—then marched to my treadmill, intending to make a racket. He slept on, arm stretched out, again as if he reached for me.

My chest went pang. My mind went pendejo!

He’d probably be pissed that I woke him so early on Christmas Eve day. His mood had continued to go downhill—hourly, it’d seemed. But I didn’t care. If he was bothered, then he should sleep in the master suite—instead of getting me used to his big, warm body spooning me all night!

With the room’s remote control, I opened the curtains, revealing the ocean. Today was a Miami stunner. Early morning sunlight glimmered over the ripples on the water’s surface, making them look like diamonds.

Now that I’d feathered my gilded cage, the tower was a dream. Here, I had running, swimming, business journals delivered every morning, a new wardrobe, and an endless supply of decadent food.

Oh, and a dream lover. Except for the fact that he would soon return to Russia, leaving me behind.



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