Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
And like this, he was ready to open himself to the touch of slender fingers as Amani poured them over with lube…and, sinking across Vic’s body to straddle his lap, captured his mouth and darted both his tongue and one finger inside.
Vic stiffened, at the first light brush against untouched flesh—oily and smooth and warm, testing and pressing gently, while Amani mimicked with feinting darts of his tongue that bordered on obscene, working Vic’s panting mouth to erotic softness and heat. He tried not to tense—but he couldn’t help it as that finger circled and returned, pressed and teased, slid in slow and left him gritting his teeth, starving for air, rolling his hips as pressure and burning caresses rocked him from inside.
It hurt—it hurt so much more than he ever expected, that one slim finger, then two, a grinding, hot dragging within, a thing that flushed him deep and burst with pleasure from the root to the tip of his cock and transformed into some dark mimicry of pleasure as Amani guided him through it with sinful lips and the promise in every slow-plunging taste, capturing him and holding him prisoner to sensation unlike any he’d ever known. Nothing had ever felt as intimate as being explored this way, and as Amani released his mouth, biting his lower lip and tugging before letting go with a last snap of his teeth, Vic caught his breath on a sharp cry as Amani slithered down his body, dragging against his agonizingly straining, wet-slicked cock, and bit down on his nipple in a spark-shock snap of pain that made his cock spurt and his back arch, torn between raw, conflicting sensations…as a third finger slipped inside, filling him with a thickness he almost couldn’t stand.
“M-Master,” he gasped out, tossing his head back, rising up on his knees only to sink back down, almost impaling himself on those fingers. “Fuck, Master!”
“Relax, sweet boy.” Purring approval, the warmth in that stroking voice caressing over him and only making him shudder deeper. Vic tried to relax, but when Amani began those slow, thrusting strokes of his fingers, when he brought that glide and rhythm inside Vic until his body took control…he couldn’t stop himself from curling into Amani, the warmth of his body, even as he lifted his hips and rocked himself back and opened himself, bared himself, begged with his body where the only word he could remember to say was Master, Master, Master. He writhed, played so expertly by Amani’s touch, taken to a place beyond control where he need only give himself up, trust his beloved, and fall into torture as only Amani could make pleasure be.
“How does it feel, sweet boy?” Amani asked, and Vic whimpered in the back of his throat, squeezing his eyes shut as Amani twisted his fingers inside and caressed his inner walls in strokes of silk.
“Tight,” he gasped out through his teeth, then melted into a shuddering moan as the next thrust came harder, faster. “Deep. Hurts….”
“Do you want to hurt more, my love?”
Yes. No matter what Amani asked of him, the answer was always yes. And Vic answered not in words, but with the acquiescing bow of his head, the readiness of his body as he spread his thighs and lifted himself up.
Slick fingers slipped out of him, leaving him empty, the void left behind a demanding thing—but he watched, rapt, as he was gifted with the vision of Amani’s caftan falling away over his naked body, burnished and coppery and glowing with a lustrous sheen, every fragile slender limb just as strong as it needed to be to hold Vic completely under his command. Warm, smooth skin hissed against him, sheer perfect arousal in every touch, as Amani slid beneath his thighs, gripped his hips, drew Vic up to straddle him. He bucked, as he felt the press of Amani’s cock against his ass, the first hot wet dew of pre-come dripping against his cleft, the thickness of a cock-head nudging against him. His heart lurched, his gut tightening, a spark of fear only making the anticipation that much sweeter, ramping up that whispering need to ease that empty pull.
Amani’s eyes lidded as he moved against him, pleasure in delicate features, burning in amber cat-eyes. “Here,” he whispered, guiding Vic to position himself, shifting him on trembling thighs. “Just as you like. Let me watch you take me.”
He obeyed as though he had no other choice—because for him, the only choice was this. This was what let him be who he had always needed to be: to be guided, to be taken, to be captured, to be owned. To relinquish all control; to obey, and to sink into the bliss of pure trust, pure surrender, pure compliance. As he sank into the burn, the invasion, the intimacy, the pleasure…he lowered himself, twisted his hips, and pressed himself down on Amani’s cock.