39

39
Cole
The kiss was everything I had never expected, yet everything I secretly craved. My lips collided with hers, the softness of her mouth a strange yet familiar sensation, like a puzzle piece clicking into place.
There was something intoxicating about it, something I hadn’t felt since... Yasmin.
Yasmin. The thought barely registered before I drowned it in the woman before me. Her lips parted against mine, her breath shallow, as if she, too, was searching for something in this kiss.
Some fleeting moment of connection that could fill the empty void left by everything that had been lost. Her scent, faintly sweet, filled my senses, and I couldn’t help but lose myself in the sensation.
For a moment, I forgot that it wasn’t Yasmin. It was as if I was kissing the very ghost of her. A ghost that I couldn’t seem to shake.
When she finally broke the kiss, we both gasped for breath, our chests heaving. Her eyes flickered, dark blue and intense, studying me as if she could see into my very soul. I wasn’t sure if I wanted her to see or not.
“What’s your name?” I asked, my voice rough. My body was already reacting to her - a hunger I hadn’t felt since she died. Not since I was trapped in a marriage that felt like a cage. Now, I wished I had cherished that moment.
Yasmin’s death had twisted something inside me - this woman was an escape, a fleeting distraction. Nothing more. I told myself that.
Kissing someone so similar to my late wife made me wonder just how it would have felt to kiss Yasmin. I had never kissed her passionately before. My hatred for her wouldn’t let me.
She didn’t answer right away, her fingers tracing lightly over my chest, feeling the tension beneath my clothes. “I bear names that clients choose for me,” she finally said, her voice soft and sultry, laced with something sensational. “What will yours be, Master?”
Master?
I stared at her. Somehow, the way she said it made me harder.
I had made Yasmin call me that, but with contempt, with a resignation that left me hollow. But this woman— she spoke it with an eagerness that made my blood rush.
“Why Master?” I asked, my breath hitching. It wasn’t just the word. It was the implication behind it. The control. The power. Something I thought I had lost. Something I craved more than I wanted to admit.
“You look like someone who loves to be in charge,” she replied, her fingers trailing down my abdomen, sending a trail of fire in their wake. “One who controls.”
I swallowed hard, trying to focus. “So, I’m in charge?”
“Yes, Master,” she murmured, her eyes flashing with a challenge.
I clenched my jaw, my pulse hammering in my ears. “Would you like us to take it in private, or shall we stay here and let everyone watch us?”
Her lips curled into a smirk, and she ran her fingers over the bulge straining against my trousers. “I think you deserve your privacy,” she said, her voice hushed, heated. “But I’m not opposed to the idea of an audience.”
I didn’t need another invitation. I grabbed her, pulling her into my arms, her body pressed against mine as I kissed her again - harder, more demanding. The world outside ceased to exist. There was only her and the hunger burning between us.
With a single push, I forced open the door, carrying her inside. She didn’t resist, wrapping her arms around my neck as I kissed her again, deeper, more urgently.
I hadn’t felt this way in years, and for a brief moment, I let myself forget everything - the past, Yasmin’s betrayal, her death. I was just... alive.
I set her down on the table in the room, my hands restless as they roamed over her body. She was eager, just as eager as I was. I paused, looking down at her.
“What name would you like me to call you?” she asked, her voice ragged.
I smiled at her, my fingers sliding down her bosom. “That depends,” I purred, “on how well you serve me.”
“You will be in awe,” she breathed against my lips.
I grunted, my patience wearing thin. “We’ll see about that.” My hands went to work, pulling at her clothes. There was no time for niceties. I wanted her—now.
Her skin was soft beneath my fingers, and when I finally saw her fully, my body reacted instinctively. She wasn’t Yasmin - no one could be.
But she was close enough. The thought made me shiver, a flash of guilt piercing through me before I shoved it aside. She wasn’t Yasmin.
I pulled her closer, my mouth trailing down her neck as I tore at her trousers, feeling the heat radiating from her. She gasped when my fingers brushed against her skin.
Wanting to see her face fully, I raised my hands to her mask, but she caught them mid-air and pulled my hands down to her wet entrance.
I followed her lead, sliding my hands between her legs. She was wet, eager, and I couldn’t deny the satisfaction that stirred inside me.
Her body trembled as I slid my fingers inside her, and she moaned, her breath ragged. “Faster,” she urged, her hands pulling at my hair as I kissed her fiercely.
I did as she asked, my fingers moving in and out of her with increasing speed. Her moans grew louder, more desperate, and I could feel her getting closer. But I wasn’t done. Not yet.
I pulled away, my hands sliding up to her breasts, tweaking her hardened nipples.
“Ever gone down on a woman, Master?” she asked, her voice a breathless whisper.
I paused, the question catching me off guard. “Yes,” I answered gruffly, my mind flashing to memories of that night. It wasn’t Yasmin. I once thought of it, but got too hateful.
Rather, I went to Sarah and did it on her until she released her loads on my face. That was all we did that night before jacking off with my own hands, preventing Sarah from giving me a head.
“Who? Anyone special?” she asked again amidst moans.
But I didn’t want to think about that now. “Not your business,” I muttered, focusing on the task at hand.
She didn’t argue. Instead, she smiled—a sly, playful grin that made my blood burn. “Want to try it again?” she asked.
Without answering, I sank to my knees between her legs, burying my face in her heat. She gasped, her hands gripping my hair as I tasted her, savoring the way she responded to me.
She was everything I needed in that moment—something raw, something untamed.
When I stood up, she undressed me with ease, her hands working quickly as if she had done this before. Of course she had. I couldn’t help but watch her, the way her eyes flickered with interest, with intent.
Once I was bare, I reached into the drawer beside the bed, pulling out a condom. I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to think about anything. I just needed her.
I slid inside her; the sensation jolting through me like electricity. She was different from Yasmin, but the way she moved, the way she moaned—it didn’t matter.
I thrust into her, hard and deep, the pleasure crashing over me in waves. She matched my pace, grinding against me as if she knew exactly how to push me to the edge.
The intensity was unbearable, and before I knew it, she was on top of me, her hips moving in a frantic rhythm as she drove me closer to the brink.
Her eyes locked on mine, her mouth parted as she let out a low, satisfied moan.
I grunted, flipping her over so I could take control once again. My hands fisted in her hair, pulling her head back as I drove deeper, harder. I could feel the climax building, the pressure unbearable.
“Yasmin.” Her name escaped my lips before I could stop it.
Her soft moan echoed in my ears as we both collapsed onto the bed, her warmth still lingering against me.
For a moment, the room was quiet, our breaths the only sound breaking the silence. Then, she shifted, turning toward me with a teasing glint in her eyes. “Yasmin?” she stated, standing up with a smile that was far too confident. “Is that what you’re going to call me?”
I barely glanced at her, my focus drifting elsewhere until something caught my attention. My gaze locked onto the tattoo on her abdomen.
My blood ran cold. Without thinking, I grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer. She gasped, startled, but I didn’t care. My eyes were fixed on that mark - that damn tattoo.
“Why do you have this?” My voice came out colder than I intended, but I couldn’t help it.
She opened her mouth, but before any excuses could spill out, I reached for her face.
My fingers gripped the mask she wore, and with a sharp tug, I tore it away, revealing her face.