Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 53880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
It’s him.
It’s Nick Hudson.
And I love him.
I’m also still hungry, and I know that Nick can read me better than anyone. He knows my look. He knows exactly what I need.
Nick’s expression darkens and his finger slips free. He flips me over so I’m lying on the table, my legs spread wide, and his hands taking a tighter hold on my ass as he spreads my legs even wider. Looking down at me, he grins—a wicked Nick Hudson smile that sends shivers down my spine. “You’re dripping wet. I can smell your desire, see it glistening on your thighs, your cunt. Now, I’m going to taste it.”
With that, his head lowers, and his tongue broadens. In one long, languid stroke, he licks me from ass to clit and I cry out louder than before, not caring if anyone in Wonderland can hear or not.
“Please, oh God, please!” I beg minutes later, positive if he doesn’t grant my request this time, if he doesn’t let me climax again and again, I’m going to die.
He has some uncanny ability to know the very moment that I’m about to come, the second before I’m stepping off the cliff. It’s pure torture that at that exact moment, his tongue will lift, his lips will cease their kissing.
“Please, Nick. I need to come again. I can’t get enough!”
How he can control himself is beyond me. I know his cock is hard, has been rigid for our entire birthday celebration, and yet he’s not only denying me, but he’s also forgoing his own pleasure.
“Greedy?” he asks, his chin glistening with my essence as he looks at me from between my trembling thighs.
“Yes. But you’re to blame,” I say, meaning every word. “For fuck’s sake, have some goddamn mercy.”
“For fuck’s sake?” he asks, smirking and shaking his head. “Do I look like a merciful man to you?”
I know the answer to that question.
Nick Hudson is not a man known for mercy.
But right now, I don’t care about anything other than easing the ache he’s caused with every lick of that extremely talented tongue.
“You’re right,” I say, locking my eyes with his. “I don’t want mercy… I need you to take me, to claim me, to fuck me… to make me explode. I need it all night long, and I never want it to end. I want to remain in Wonderland for the rest of my life. With you. With us.”
His nostrils flare. “Careful what you ask for. You might regret it… again.”
The threat sounds far more like a promise. A promise I’m praying he will deliver. I don’t immediately speak, allowing my body to answer for me, lifting my hips, rotating them as much as I can with his huge body between my legs, my hands releasing the edge of the table for a moment to flex my fingers before gripping the wood again.
Licking my lips, I moan and say, “The only thing I’m going to regret is if you don’t make me scream.”
Classic Nick Hudson…
He takes that challenge and delivers.
I scream.
And scream.
And scream again.
If what he’s been doing was foreplay, then what he does now is walking into a battle.
I’ve lost all my senses other than the pleasure between my legs.
His tongue lashes at my cunt. There are no more soft kisses or gentle nibbles. His teeth nip at my flesh, drawing my pussy lips out to bite each one, his breath hot on sensitive flesh until I come and then come again, and again.
His attack is ruthless, a man on a mission, an athlete striving for the gold medal, a soldier determined to take the hill, to win the war.
I am soon pleading for another reason, begging for relief from the waves of constant sensation rolling over me like a tsunami. “God, I can’t!” I cry when his tongue thrusts into my pussy yet again, driving like a piston in and out of me.
His head lifts and I almost weep with the relief, but it lasts only as long as it takes him to flip me over, the move surprising and effortless on his part. My body goes limp, shudders rippling from my head to my toes, yet he doesn’t seem to care.
“Turn around. Bend over and push your ass out,” he demands, swatting my bare and punished flesh to motivate me into moving.
I groan, but manage to lift myself, my fingers moving from the edge of the table to the cool surface beneath me. My nipples ache where they’re pressed into the mahogany, and yet I feel a pulse flutter in my pussy as they are abraded by the smoothness.
Strong hands grip my thighs, pushing them apart as his body moves up to settle between them.
“You’ll come again,” he says, not as a question but as a command.
I feel the broad head of his cock at the entrance to my ass and whimper. Not in fear, but in relief that I am finally going to feel him press inside me, to stretch me, to fill me. “What was that you wanted, Lyriope? To be fucked in the ass?”