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He goes by many names. To the prostitutes he fucks, he is Mr Mason. To his students, he is Sir. On the streets, he is simply God. He is clever. He is cunning. He is filthy. You wouldn't want to cross him. But she does. What happens when bad guy meets his match? THIS BOOK IS NOT BASED ON THE SAME TIMELINE AS JAIN OR CHASING JAIN, WHICH IS BASED AFTER THIS. YOU CAN READ THIS S AS A STAND-ALONE.

4.6 72 reviews
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I was early- six minutes early to be precise, but I didn’t think he would mind. I paused before knocking gently on the door, the soft knock that tells a waiting man that a woman has arrived. Policemen knock hard, not women. My knuckles brush against the door as the raps echo in the room beyond, and I retract my hand slowly.

The hallways of expensive hotels tend to smell the same- plush carpets that are cleaned meticulously three times a day, fresh paint regardless of how long its been there and fresh bedding, which is my personal favourite.

I hear the heavy footsteps approach the door and I lift my eyes to the spy hole, knowing he would approve.

The door opens to reveal my punter for the evening, and despite analysing his photo on the way here, I’m still visibly rocked by his level of genetic blessings. His hair is black, the colour of ink. His eyes are a bright blue, and his jaw clenches as he drags his hand across his chin thoughtfully.


The voice sends shivers down my spine, and I have to remind myself what I’m doing here. I’m on the job, this is entirely business, not pleasure.

“Mr Mason?”

He nods curtly as he moves back, allowing me to access his room.

“You are five minutes early,” he says, sitting on the bed as he observes me.

“I am.”

We regard each other carefully, his gaze travelling slowly down my body, almost as though he is undressing me with his eyes. I hold his gaze as his eyes reach mine, and he leans forward, exhaling slowly.

“I asked for a blonde. You’re not blonde,” he points out, as he removes the cufflinks from his shirt.


“I was told you’d asked for the best,” I retort, as he begins to unbutton his shirt.

“How old are you?” he asks, as he peels off his shirt, revealing a heavily tattooed chest, which made heat pool between my legs.

“Twenty six.”

He nods, lifting a cigarette to his lips as he lights it, walking over to me slowly. He inhales deeply, then allows the smoke to leave his mouth in a cloud, interrupting the air between us.

“Take your clothes off.”

I’m being paid to do as he says; anything he says, and as long as he behaves accordingly, everything will be fine. I’m wearing a silk dress that slides away from my shoulders, revealing my bare skin and no underwear. He’d been specific in what he wanted; and I was happy to oblige. He inhales again, before he sits back on the bed and observes me.

“You wax.”

It was a statement, not a question, so I continue to gaze at him as he nods with approval.

“What’s your name?”

“Emilia,” I lie, and he cocks an eyebrow.

He smirks a little, before standing up to walk closer to me, his fingers tilting my head back.

“Do you smoke, Emilia?”

I decide to be honest and nod, as he presses his lips against mine, exhaling the smoke into my mouth. I inhale instantly, but his tongue enters my mouth soon after, meaning I could barely breathe. I moan against him when he lifts me up effortlessly, turning me towards the bed. My legs wrap around his waist, but he places me down as he indicates the cigarette in his hands.

“Make me cum by the time I’ve finished this cigarette and I’ll return the favour.”

My eyes flicker to the cigarette, noticing the end burn with orange embers as he inhales, his eyes taunting me. I feel excitement like no other, and I waste no time in pulling his trousers down to reveal his dick, which is now rock hard. I lick my lips as I turn him around, so that I’m on the floor on my knees. I indicate the mirror behind me, and instruct him to look there.

His eyes lift up to the mirror, and I feel him harden as I wrap my lips around his shaft. He grunts as I wrap my hand around the base, pumping it into my mouth whilst I rock my body, my butt hitting my heels as he curses. My fingers dance over his balls which are heavy, and I am pleasantly surprised that he tastes of soap. He smells so manly that I can’t help but look up at him, something I don’t usually bother with. Blokes love blow jobs, its not anything new.

But the fact that he had offered to make me cum?

First of all, he wouldn’t be able to. I was more into women, truth be told, but I was dying to see him try.

Second of all, I could hardly cum using my own hands; it was ridiculously difficult. I had to be in the right mood, and that wasn’t right now.

As I lick the shaft I feel him groan, and I almost grin when he spills into my mouth, as I begin swallowing rapidly, making sure I don’t miss a drop. I continue to pump his cock into my mouth as I look up at him, as he inhales the last drag of his cigarette.

“Congratulations. It’s your turn.”

He lifts me to my feet as he walks over to the bathroom, opening the door to reveal an enormous bath filled to the top with bubbles.

“Get in,” he smirks, leaning in the doorway as he watches me.

I walk forward, testing the water with my fingers before climbing in, the water surrounding me instantly as I relax. The lights are off suddenly, and I’m aware of the soft glow of candles that I hadn’t noticed on my way in. I look up to see him walking forwards, sitting on the step that led up to the bath as he gazes at me.

“May I?”

He lifts his fingers up questionably, and I nod slowly, as he dipped them into the water, dragging them along my thigh softly as I part my legs.

“So tense. You’d think a woman as beautiful as you wouldn’t be so sexually frustrated.”

His voice is soothing, and I let out a soft moan when he reaches my sex, his fingers stroking it lightly.

“I’m not,” I lie, as he presses his thumb down roughly on my clit.


I feel a lurch in my stomach as I roll my head back, my body responding to his fingers as he continues to talk.

“You don’t prefer women, sweetheart. You prefer their light touch. Their gentle ways, their soft skin.”

My eyes fly open at his words and he meets my eyes.

“You don’t like fucking. It does nothing for you. What you need is pressure in all the right places, like this.”

His fingers move expertly against me, feathery touches that allow the water to soothe the sensitive skin left behind. His thumb moves in a circular motion against my clit and I bite my lip, annoyed that this fucker was managing to do this.

“What are you doing, trying to resist?”

He sounds almost amused now, and I open my eyes to stare at him with annoyance.

“Be nice, sweetheart. I’m about to make you scream my name.”

I let out a harsh laugh, and this only seems to amuse him more.

His fingers pick up speed now, and the other hand moves in, stroking my nipples as I try to fight the feeling that’s building up in my stomach.

Suddenly he’s in the bath with me, and I’m gasping as he lifts me up, water sloshing all over the floor as his mouth meets mine.

I’m riding his fingers now and despite everything I’ve ever known, I’m almost in euphoria.

His strong arm wraps around my waist as he kisses me hard on the mouth, before he whispers something to me.


“Don’t stop,” I whisper, grinding my hips against him as he smirks.

“Don’t stop what?”

“Mason! Don’t stop!”

Suddenly I’m there, and I can’t help but scream out his name exactly as he predicted.

He made me cum, without fucking me, and in under twenty minutes.


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