Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 88228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Nothing.
“That’s sexy,” he says, still a bit out of breath. “The way you rub it on yourself.”
I say nothing. Simply let my hand drift upward to my breast. My nipple aches for touch, so I give it a little pinch. I’m so needy that I let out a moan and lift my hips at that simple subtle contact.
“Nipples need some attention?” he asks.
“Yes. Please.” I don’t even care how desperate I sound. At the moment, I’ll give my next breath of oxygen for Braden’s lips around one nipple.
He lowers himself, his dark-pink lips coming closer, closer, closer…
Then he darts out his tongue and licks my right nipple.
I squirm beneath, arching my back, looking for more.
But Braden rolls over on my bed, his back to me.
“I never took you for a tease,” I say.
“I’m not teasing you, and you know it.”
Yes, I know it. This is punishment, pure and simple. Which I know I deserve.
I turn my head and regard his bare back, so tanned and strong, the muscles flexing lightly as he breathes.
And I wonder…
Can two play this game?
If so, do I even have what it takes?
Chapter Nineteen
Braden wakes before I do Saturday morning. The sound of the shower rouses me, and I rise and don my bathrobe. I washed up last night, but I’m tempted to join him in the shower. I resist. Instead, I pour a cup from the pot of coffee he made and take a sip.
Nicely done. He makes better coffee than I do, which is surprising given someone else makes his coffee at home. Why is he up so early, anyway? It’s Saturday. Saturdays are supposed to be lazy. We should be in bed making slow, sweet love.
Is he still angry?
Why should he be? He already punished me. I had to fall asleep last night with the female equivalent of a hard-on. I considered masturbating, but I’ve never had any luck doing that, and besides, I kind of felt like it would be…disobeying him. Which shouldn’t have bothered me, but it did.
I flash back to the evening a couple of weeks ago when I tried to re-create my first orgasm with Braden by using a vibrator. That vibrator still hid in my top dresser drawer, along with a couple of other toys.
Again, temptation. But Braden will be out of the shower soon. What will he think if he finds me lying naked on the bed masturbating?
Don’t, Skye. You gave him control in the bedroom.
But I can’t resist. I grab the vibrator out of the top dresser drawer and settle on my bed. I pinch my nipples lightly to start my body’s motor. It doesn’t take too long, especially since I was left wanting last night.
I moisten the tip of the vibrator in my mouth and then trail it over my abdomen and down to my pussy. It slips in easily even though I’m tight. How did I get wet so quickly?
It feels nice, but it’s not Braden. I know already I won’t be able to force an orgasm. For some reason, Braden’s presence is required for that feat. I can put on an act, though. I can pretend I’m coming when he walks out of my bathroom.
I pull the vibrator out of my pussy and toss it on the other side of the bed.
He’ll know. Braden will know if I’m faking. How he knows? I have no clue. But he will.
The door to my bathroom opens, and Braden steps out wearing nothing but one of my best towels around his waist. His hair is wet and slicked back, and he looks absolutely scrumptious.
He darts his gaze to the hot-pink toy on my bed. He cocks his head. “Having fun without me?”
“I gave it some thought,” I say, “but it wasn’t working for me.”
He walks over and picks up the vibrator, brings it to his nose, and sniffs it. “This has been inside you.”
“For a hot second, yeah.”
“Why didn’t you finish?”
Because I can’t. I can’t come without you, and you know it. I gave you control over this part of me.
“Because…I guess I’m just not in the mood.”
His gaze darkens. “You’re lying naked on the bed, your nipples are erect, and your body is flushed warm pink.”
I part my lips. He knows all my signals. I’m an open book to this man.
“Why would you lie to me?”
I’m not lying. But the words don’t come, because they are a lie in themselves. I know it, and he knows it.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Don’t be sorry, Skye. Just don’t lie to me. I can see right through you. I want your complete trust, and it goes both ways.”
His blue gaze penetrates me then. And yes, in that moment I believe that he can see right through me. Into my mind. Into my heart. Into my soul.
“You look beautiful,” he says.