Imperfect Affections (Beauty in Imperfection #2) Read Online Charmaine Pauls

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Crime, Dark, Mafia, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Beauty in Imperfection Series by Charmaine Pauls
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Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
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Obeying, I draw the toy deeper. A taste of rubber coats my tongue, plastic and fake.

“Harder,” he says. “I want to see you work for it.”

I suck until my cheeks hollow, doing what he wants to pay another installment of the debt I owe him. Instinctively, I know this is part of the transaction, part of my give and his take.

He pulls out the toy and brushes it over my lips before holding it just out of reach. “Wrap your tongue around it.”

I have to strain my neck to reach. He makes me chase after it, forcing me to hunt for the toy before he lets me catch it.

“How well do you suck cock?” he asks, simulating the act of oral sex by pumping a few times, bumping the crest against the inside of my cheek. “Can you take it down your throat?”

I shake my head.

He smiles as if he finds my lack of skill amusing. “To the back?” He pulls it out to let me speak.

Swallowing saliva, I clench the sheet in my fists. “I’m not one of your experienced hookers, so excuse me if I don’t meet your expectations.”

He brings the wet dildo down hard on my clit. The slap reverberates through the room, the sting making my hips lift off the mattress. The pain ignites sparks under my skin, heating my lower body and making me wet. I’m so fucked up. I’m wired all wrong, and he knows it.

Leaning closer, he whispers, “What did I say about disrespecting sex workers, darling?”

A whiff of alcohol reaches my nostrils. “You’ve been drinking.”

“You’re not a hooker, but you are my slut.” He slaps the dildo in his palm, studying it. “If your mouth is useless, we’ll have to find another hole for this toy.”

My throat constricts even as his dirty talk turns me slicker. It’s a huge toy. I’m not sure I can take it.

“You better lubricate it well,” he taunts, bringing it back to my lips.

He slides it onto my tongue, pushing deeper this time and making me gag.

“It’ll help if you breathe through your nose,” he says, giving me a moment to drag in air before he feeds me more of the toy.

My eyes water when he hits the back of my throat.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he says, pulling the toy with a pop from my lips. “Bend your knees. Touch your ass with your heels if you can.”

I’m not nearly as supple as that. When I’ve pulled up my knees, he cups them with his palms and spreads my legs.

The way he stares at the triangle between my legs makes my skin tingle.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he says. “If you take this toy all the way like a good girl, I’ll give you a reward. But I urge you to make a good effort, because this is the only cock you’re getting tonight.”

The words leave me cold, but the fact that they don’t diminish my need must say a lot about me.

“Lie still,” he says. “Don’t move a finger.”

He teases my mouth with the toy again, brushing the crest over my lips before dragging it over my throat to my breast. He draws a circle around one nipple, teasing the tip into a hard point. I fix my eyes on the ceiling, tuning out my mind even as my body turns hyper-sensitive. It’s wrong, but it feels good. My inner muscles clench when he massages my other nipple with the rubber head.

He draws a line over my stomach, leaving a wet trail on my skin. At the top of my slit, he pauses, making me wait. My breathing spikes when he finally parts me to circle the button hidden beneath my folds. He plays with that trigger zone, applying enough pressure to bring me to the edge before pulling me back with gentle teasing again until perspiration covers my body.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he parts me with one hand and positions the toy at my entrance. I keep my gaze pinned on the ceiling, but I know he’s studying me as he twists the toy from side to side, gently lodging it inside. Like yesterday, he’s clinical in his ministration. He’s paying attention to the signs of my body and reading me like a man well experienced in delivering pleasure, which he is. But when he starts fucking me meticulously, each stroke perfectly paced, I don’t want to think about those other women. It doesn’t matter that he paid them and that the sex they shared were business transactions. It no longer differentiates me or holds a promise of a deeper meaning because he paid me too. There’s nothing special about what’s happening. I’m no one to him other than an enemy, and there’s no moment I feel it stronger than the moment he touches me with heated skill and cold detachment.


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