Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87825 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87825 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
And I do.
We continue this method of sexual madness for an hour or more. I lick her until she snaps her fingers, and every time, she comes back for more.
The unbearable need to orgasm is going to win out—it always does.
And afterward…that’s when the real fun begins.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sadie
I’m going to come.
Ashton is a diabolical ass because he’s setting me up to fail, and there’s not an atom in my body that wants me to win his cruel game. As his tongue runs the length of my slit, and that damn finger in my ass wiggles, the pressure reaches an all-time high. I’m about to break my fingers from the strength it takes to snap them.
But I can’t.
More like won’t.
My body has taken over, and I’m grinding his face in wanton need. Unashamed, so far out of my mind that the room could be full of people, and I wouldn’t care.
All that exists is his hot, talented mouth devouring between my thighs.
More tears drench the blindfold, and some slip free. I’m not crying out of sorrow or pain. I’m sobbing out of pure frustration. I’m not even worried about his punishment if I let go and dive into a free-fall.
I don’t want to let him win.
It’s already too late. My fingers refuse to snap one more time—just one more fucking time—and I come in long waves of ecstasy, my release flooding his greedy mouth. I lose all sense of reality, and any sliver of balance I was holding on to disintegrates. I’m swaying to the side, flopping like a boneless mass toward the mattress, when he grabs me.
He flips us, and I find myself sinking into the mattress on my back. He shoves my legs wide open and brings his mouth to my pussy once more.
And he licks up every last bit of me.
I don’t care that I’m a sweaty mess, that my arms are on fire from having my hands restrained behind me. I can’t form a coherent thought, let alone worry about my uncomfortable position.
I’ve never come like that before, on a whole new plane of existence—a level so high I think God himself would have to look up. I’m boneless and disoriented, as if high on drugs…or what I imagine being high would feel like.
He slides up my body and wipes the tears from my cheeks. His touch is so gentle and warm that it makes me want to cry for an entirely different reason.
“You okay?”
Still gagged, I can do no more than nod.
“You’re crying.” He takes my chin in his hand, his thumb caressing my jawline. “I’d take out the gag, but we’re not done yet. As soon as we are, I’m going to hold you for as long as you need, and you can talk to me for as long as you want. Do you understand?”
Another nod. Another bout of tears. I’m not sure I can muster the energy to speak anyway. I’m overwhelmed by the confusing emotions roaring through me.
He shifts, and I hear a loud buzzing sound come to life. “I promised punishment if you came. I always keep my promises, Sadie.” He settles between my knees and presses a vibrator directly on my clit.
The thing is too powerful, making me jerk involuntarily. I bring my knees together.
Or I try.
He shoves them apart again. “Don’t move. I don’t care how hard it is for you to keep your legs spread. You’re going to lie here and come as many times as I want you to.” Putting action to words, he adds pressure to that wicked weapon he’s using on my most tender, intimate spot, and another orgasm rips through me.
My body is shaking uncontrollably from sensation overload. Something deep, almost animalistic originates from my throat, and not even the gag can smother my howl of pain.
How can something so pleasurable be so painful at the same time? My legs are quaking violently, tensing in cramping agony, and I can’t stop my knees from inching together. The thought of him bringing that vibrator to my clit again makes me bite down on the gag.
“Legs open, Sadie. I can tie your ankles to the bed posts if you need me to.”
Shaking my head, I spread wide and wait for that horrid method of torture again.
He presses the sexual weapon to my pussy and amps up the vibrations. With a smothered scream, I arch my spine, upper body lifting off the bed. I hang there for a few seconds, suspended in purgatory between wanting to come and not wanting to come.
The pulse between my legs goes on for too many seconds—unbearable ticks of the clock that seem endless. Jesus, this is torture.
I want to howl and cry, unhindered by the gross rubber pressing down on my tongue. More than anything, I want to see him.
Is he watching me with that dark, lustful look in his blue eyes? Is his cock hard and dripping? I hate that he can see every part of me, feel every part of me, and I can do nothing but take it, sight, touch, and voice taken.