Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 110201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
And why shouldn’t I be? I wanted this. Even if nothing came of my offer, just making it to a complete stranger was wild and exhilarating. I uncrossed my legs and pressed the front of my skirt down in the hollow I’d created between my knees, my hands curled around the hem.
He peered at me expectantly as I took in a preparing breath.
“Do you want,” I said, “to taste my pussy?”
Disbelief knocked him back a half-step, and as soon as he finished processing the question, his attention snapped to Clay. Was it to check with him if this was all right? To see if my date would allow it? The two men exchanged a long look, and God, what I would have given to understand their wordless conversation.
But I didn’t.
Satisfied, the man’s focus swung back to me and swept downward, taking in my outfit, my legs, my heels . . . A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. It made me smolder, but then the word he uttered? It set me on fucking fire.
“Sure,” he said.
Oh, my God.
My pulse went erratic when he stepped into the space between the couch and the ottoman I was sitting on, blocking my view of Clay. I stopped breathing altogether when he knelt on the floor between my parted legs, bringing him perfectly into my eyeline.
Time suspended as this handsome stranger stared at me. Did he see the same curiosity he had reflected in my eyes? I was fascinated by who he was to Clay and what he’d been told about tonight. There weren’t answers in his eyes, though, only more questions.
His gaze drifted down and came to a stop on my hands holding my skirt in place. “Can I touch you?”
It was the same question Clay had asked me earlier, and the flashback to the ruler striking my skin was unavoidable. I shuddered with a pleasurable aftershock, but hopefully the man didn’t notice.
I pressed my lips together and nodded, too anxious to speak, because I worried what might come out. This whole night had been intoxicating and obliterated what few inhibitions I had. If I wasn’t careful, I might tell this stranger he could fuck me.
The man’s palms were warm when he gently set them on my knees, but they didn’t stay there. Up his hands went, sliding along the tops of my thighs, and showers of goosebumps burst across my legs as he pushed back my skirt.
I had to force air in and out of my body, making my corset heave. Then I put my hands down behind me on the ottoman and leaned back, making room for him. Over his shoulder, Clay was there, supervising us with a hungry look.
The man reached my hips, and he rested his hands on them, hesitating. He searched my eyes, confirming I was comfortable with him going further, so I gave him a tiny nod, then lifted my hips to make it easier for him to peel my underwear down.
When he bent to push my thong past my ankles and shoes, Clay’s expression filled with power. “You’ll watch me while he does it. Understand?”
Oh, God. The idea was scorching hot. I bit the inside of my cheek to stay quiet and gave another quick nod.
The man in the gray suit didn’t have any objections or comments about Clay’s command. Instead, he discarded my panties on the ottoman beside me, slid his palms up the insides of my thighs, and pressed me shockingly open, revealing my bareness to him, and everyone else in the room.
“Fuck,” I uttered under my hurried breath. Anticipation turned me into a livewire. I was supposed to watch Clay while it happened, but my gaze bounced between the two men as the stranger dropped his shoulders and slowly lowered his mouth to me.
“Oh, fuck,” I repeated as his lips made contact.
The faintest brush of his mouth over my clit caused my legs to tremble. His warm hands gripped the insides of my thighs, and I stared at Clay through my lust-hazed eyes. It was impossible to catch my breath.
There should have been a voice in the back of my head telling me this behavior was wrong. That I wasn’t supposed to let a stranger fuck me with his tongue while my brand-new boyfriend watched.
Boyfriend?
Was that the right label to use for Clay? Partner was a better fit.
The voice that was supposed to make me feel shame was silent tonight, blotted out by the inferno burning inside me from this erotic act. Or maybe Clay had deactivated that part of me earlier when he’d wielded his ruler.
The man’s tongue was velvet as it slid across my damp skin. Shit, that felt amazing. It rolled over my clit, spinning circles of bliss that clouded my vision. I was breathing so hard, I became lightheaded, and I had to press a hand to the center of my corset, leaving myself propped up by one precariously shaky arm.