The final installment of the Mastered by Degrees trilogy will soon be available. Fulfillment is the culmination of Bree’s story, her exploration of a world unknown to her but one that has revealed secret desires and not so secret truths.
Here’s a quick excerpt as Bree gets the first look from a different perspective.
Mr. Romero stands at my back, the heat of his body a wall to lean upon. I can look up and see his reflection, but my eyes are all for her.
“Touch her.”
My brain begins a cascade of where I should touch her first and my eyes catalog the silky landscape of hills and valleys. Shoulders. Breasts. Belly. Hips. Pubis. I want it all but…
“What if she doesn’t want me to touch her somewhere? Or doesn’t like how I touch her? What’s her safeword?”
“I’m her safeword, Bree. She is yours, given freely and without hesitation.” Our eyes meet in the mirror over her shoulder. He nudges my elbow until my arm lifts. My hand is only inches from her body. “Touch her.”
The mask ends at the base of her throat, and I see the long column of her throat work as she swallows. Her mouth remains neutral, neither smiling nor grimacing nor frowning. Just waiting.
I put my finger just beneath the mask, in the small hollow of her throat. Her breathing is slow, measured. I trace a hesitant line to her shoulder, watch the gooseflesh rise in the wake of my touch over her skin. A matching reaction blossoms on my own flesh. I don’t pause to wonder why too long.
Next, I move to swell of her breast, heading straight for the nipple. Her mouth opens slightly and a little gasp of breath announces her anticipation. If I’ve learned one thing from Lily and my weekend so far, it’s that anticipation can be its own reward. So I detour.
The first hint of a pout on her mouth tightens those beautiful lips.
A sudden rush of heat excites my body.
I move my attention from the reaction of the body before me – the gooseflesh, the tightening areolas, the pert nipples – to my own. I’m a mirror to the arousal before me. I wish now I’d removed my bra. The leather would feel delightful against my nipples in this state. As it is, the cotton bra only acts as a cushion.
“You like to tease.”
It’s a statement, not a question from Mr. Romero. I don’t take my eyes off ma cocotte. The phrase pops into my head just that quickly. Something I remember my father saying to my mother when he would sneak up behind her to steal a kiss. She would jump and playfully swat at him, but she would always turn at the last second and give him a quick peck on the cheek. Her smile lingered long after his arms disappeared from around her body.
“Teasing is its own form of foreplay.”
I’d learned this lesson. Lying on the bed, cuffed to the headboard while strong hands explored every hill and valley of my flesh taught me the beauty of the tease.
Mr. Romero holds out a pair of small silver clips. “And not just for the recipient.”
He directs me how to apply the nipple clamps, stimulating the soft peaks with flicks and twists until taut, then closing the clamp around the nub slowly. Heat blooms in a blushing wave across ma cocotte and she rocks back on her heels from the rush then settles as the sensation ebbs.
A small chain dangles between the breasts and I give it a gentle experimental tug. My reward is a little gasp and a stifled moan.
When her breathing calms, I circle ma cocotte, never letting my fingers leave her body. The curve of her hip, the arc of her buttock, the line of her spine as it stretches her lithe body so nicely. I cup the cheek of her ass, letting my hands take the weight of that beautiful body before skimming my fingertips up the obliques and back to her neck.
My fingers read each flex of muscle and wave of gooseflesh as my touch moves along the contour of shoulder back to hip then around the waist to draw her against me.
It’s my turn to sigh as her nakedness molds against me and I wish now there was nothing between us. She lifts a hand and curls it around the back of my neck for balance as my first touch dances lightly between her legs. I’m careful though. I can feel the heat. I don’t press further into the delicate folds although it’s a form of torture for me not to touch her more, deeper.
Her hand covers mine, urging, guiding. I kiss her lightly on the neck and move her hand back to her side. It’s my turn, not hers.
We’re about the same height. I hadn’t realized it before, always feeling less in her presence. Not because she did anything to make me feel inferior. No, I did that on my own. I always feel less around others. Hiding. Hidden. Invisible.
It was time to turn the tables a little.
Her hand tightens on the nape of my neck, drawing me closer. Her arousal is a heady perfume in the room. I kiss her lightly, just behind the ear, and whisper, “Not yet.”
Mastered by Degrees: Fulfillment will available by June 15. If you’ve not read the first two installments, Initiation and Lessons, pick up the first on sale now for $0.99.