Masquerade by Georgia le Carre Read Free Book Online Page B

me here then?’
    ‘Do you know you talk too much, Miss Black?’
    ‘Why does every fucking thing have to be such a secret? Why can’t you just be cool and tell me?’
    ‘I can’t have you and you can’t have me. Why pretend?’
    I sit up and cross my arms over my midriff. ‘Just so we are clear, I don’t want to marry you or anything like that. I’m quite happy to just think of you as the most enormous erection I have ever had the good fortune to come across. So stop being so fucking secretive. It’s irritating.’
    As if I had waved a magic wand the other Jaron, the smooth-talking operator, comes back. Un-fucking-believable. I stare at him in awe. What is he? A multiple personality. He looks me up and down so slowly my nipples tingle. ‘You’re a sight for sore eyes when you’re irritated, babe,’ he says very, very softly.
    He bends and kisses me, but his kiss betrays him. It is not sexy. It is long and lingering and almost desperate. It reminds me of the way my grandfather grasped my hand when he knew he was dying. Like a claw. Even after he died his hand was tightly clenched around mine. I was so shocked I did not move. My mother came and disentangled his thin hand away.
    ‘Where is he gone?’ I asked.
    ‘To heaven.’ My mother sniffed.
    ‘Is it a horrible place?’ I asked.
    ‘Of course not. It’s a wonderful place. You only get to go there if you are good.’
    ‘So why didn’t he want to go then?’
    My mother had no satisfactory answer for me. Why do we fear dying if heaven is waiting?
    Jaron is looking at me with a crazy expression on his face. My lips form a single shivery word: ‘Jaron?’
    ‘I want you to take all of me,’ he says roughly.
    ‘OK,’ I whisper. The idea is unfamiliar and exciting.
    ‘Bum up,’ he says, and lays me face down on the bed with two pillows under my hips. The thought of being taken from behind, of being face down, my ass high in the air and totally helpless, waiting for a man to mount me is, to my mind at least, dark and twisted.
    He is the master of both our pleasures. His powerful hands run down my back and ass cheeks and down to the insides of my thighs. With both hands he opens me wide. That single rough action is the most erotic thing that has ever happened to me.
    Suddenly there I am, spread open for his pleasure. Maybe if he wasn’t such a hulk of a man or so brutishly muscular it wouldn’t have caused the sensation of such powerlessness in me. 
    I am so wet and turned on that I groan when he enters me. I exhale slowly and savor the full, forbidden pleasure of having a man’s dick inside me, a woman who thought she despised dicks. Perhaps he feels my excitement and how close I am to orgasm. My muscles are already beginning to spasm.
    ‘Yes,’ I scream.
    The orgasm comes suddenly and powerfully but it lasts only a short time. My thighs are twitching and quivering, but he orders me not to move and takes me again and again. So hard that it makes him grunt and the bed shakes and the headboard rattles against the wall. His hands are on my hips, the fingers digging painfully into my flesh, and I am juddering about like a rag doll, but in my head I want him to grip me even harder, ravish me even more, brand me. I open my mouth and ask for it.
    He doesn’t disappoint. His thrusts build up even more speed. He is like a jackhammer inside me. I begin to tremble and then an orgasm tears through me. This one is really the one that sages talk about. It is like a death. It shreds you, lays you bare to all kinds of odd sensations. Floating. Out of body. Hues. Emotions. I cry when I come down and he holds me close.
    ‘What’s the matter?’ he asks.
    I shake my head, unable to speak.
    ‘Did I hurt you?’
    I shake my head again. This time I try to reassure him by holding his hand. He doesn’t understand. He never will. He’ll never know what I experienced.
    He strokes my hair. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers.
    ‘Don’t,’ I tell him. ‘It was