Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 114260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
I watch as his clothes fall to the floor and pool by his feet, marveling at the harnessed strength evident even in the darkened room. A glint of moonlight illuminates the wide breadth of his shoulders, the corded muscles of his arms, the defined planes of his chest and abs. My eyes travel down to his thick, muscled legs, planted like two trees on the ground.
“We should go apple picking,” I say absentmindedly.
“Apple picking?” He quirks an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side.
“Yeah, apple picking. Like, you go to the orchard and pick apples. They have things like hayrides and apple cider donuts and scarecrows.”
“Babe, it’s November. You have to do that in like… September.”
I sigh. “Oh. Right.”
He shakes his head and continues to undress. “What brought that up?”
“Just imagining climbing up on your back and using you like a ladder.”
“Violet.”
I swallow, my mouth dry. He says one word, and my body starts to heat.
I close my eyes against a rush of emotion and need. I love when he says my name. It’s sweetness and seduction, like chocolate-dipped berries.
“Yes?”
“We don’t need to go apple picking for you to climb me.”
Aw, fuck. I was tired, and now I’m very wide awake. I swallow. “I know.”
I continue to watch him in silence. By the time he’s stripped off the tee and stands only in his boxers, I’m on fire.
“Come here,” I whisper, gently stroking the side of the bed. He gives me a curious look, as if not sure he knows how to take a command from me. He’s usually the one giving them, so I decide to play nice. “Please, Cain.”
A little thrill ripples through me when I realize he’s actually doing something I asked him to. He sits quietly on the edge of the bed just like he did before he left, but this time, I slide out of bed. I position myself between his knees and gently pry them apart. He’s already hard, already eager, and when I stroke his erection through the thin fabric of the boxers, my mouth waters.
“Hands behind your back,” he says in a low command, as he gathers my arms and places them at the small of my back like I’m stretching for a yoga class. “Keep them there, baby.”
Baby. I melt.
I don’t have a submissive bone in my body. Never have, never will. I write my own rules and fight my own battles. But when Cain Master gives me a command, my knees buckle and my legs turn to jelly.
He’s the only man I’ll ever submit to, and he knows it.
I eye his hard cock tented in his boxers, lean forward, and kiss the very top.
“Please,” I say on a hoarse whisper.
“God, woman. You don’t have to ask me twice.”
I sigh when the satiny-feel of his cock touches my lips. I lick the very top and suckle, making him groan. He pumps into my mouth like he’s fucking me, and I take every inch of him, every perfect fucking inch. I tease and taunt and suckle and moan, eager to please, to own this small part of him that he grants me.
“Jesus, baby. Stop.”
I shake my head from side to side. I don’t want to stop. I want him to come. I want to swallow him down and own him like he does me.
He leans down and tweaks my nipple, hard, as he breathes into my ear, “I said stop, Violet. Stop now or I’ll come in your mouth, and I want your pussy wrapped around my cock when I come.”
I moan in protest.
“Violet,” he says warningly, already eying the folded belt by his desk. With a sigh, I lay my head on his lap.
“Get up on this bed.” He may be a jealous lover, but he’s never a selfish one. I’m enjoying my place here, with my head in his lap, though, so I don’t move right away. “Now,” he orders, yanking me up and over his lap where he gives me a good hard slap.
In seconds, I’m facedown on the bed on my knees, and he’s behind me, hands on my hips and my pussy spread for him. I hold my breath until he slides into me, and I release a pent-up sigh at the fullness of him. Frissons of ecstasy explode through me when he thrusts, and a feeling of utter completion washes over me. We climax in unison, like we were made for each other.
I’m lying next to him in blissful contentment. Skin to skin, all our clothing tumbled to the floor like leaves shed for winter. I’m up on his chest and his hands are folded, resting on my lower back.
“You make a terrible pillow,” I murmur, cheek smooshed against the hardness of his body. He chuckles, but quiets when I reach for the cool metal of his dog tags. I wonder if tonight he’ll tell me. I don’t ask, just gently finger them.