Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
“Tell me.”
“About Emir, Sir?” My breath quickened as Neil’s hands cupped my breasts, and he drew his fingers slowly back and forth over the sensitive lower curve.
“If you’d like to start there.” He dipped his head to nibble my shoulder, and a chill raced up my spine.
It was difficult to concentrate, but that might have been in my favor. My words rolled out free from self-conscious structure. “Lately I’ve been imagining what he did to you when you two were together. About how it would have felt for you. About what it must have looked like, pretending I’m in the room watching.”
“Spread your legs wider.”
I was already straddling his lap, but I opened wider, my hips canting forward, giving him better access to my body.
“Go on,” he said, one hand cupping my vulva, kneading me through my wet panties.
“I think about what it would be like to be with many men at once. Their hands all over my body, hands on my breasts, fingers in my pussy, in my ass. Being used for their pleasure and taking pleasure in it.”
His cock pressed against my ass through his trousers. I didn’t grind against it. I hadn’t been invited.
“Is that something you’d like to make a reality?” he asked, his deep voice rumbling though his chest, so that I felt it on my back.
The scent of his cologne overrode my senses. “No, Sir. It’s just a fantasy. I only want you.”
“I don’t have to want you.” He gripped my mound roughly. “I already have you.”
“Yes, Sir.” My entire being was focused on him. Nothing existed beyond my hunger to please him.
If I could please him, he would please me, and make sure his pleasure was returned ten fold.
His hand moved too quickly for me to anticipate the smack that landed on my vulva, and I yelped.
“I love every sound that I make you make.” He closed his hand over my throat, pressing on those little points beneath my jaw, but not my trachea. That was far too risky; he enjoyed causing me pain, tormenting me with pleasure, but he would never actually harm me. He slapped me between my legs again, twice in quick succession, and my thighs quivered. I could only whimper.
He released me and pushed me to the floor, not roughly, just as though I were a toy he was finished playing with for the moment, and my body throbbed with longing for contact. He knew exactly how to wind me up, to make me want him more.
“Go upstairs and wait for me.”
I started to get to my feet. He pressed me back to carpet with one exquisite Italian leather short-wing blucher. “Not like that. I want to see you crawl.”
I rose on my hands and knees, my back dipped, my hair falling over my shoulders. I knew what he saw; my tight, round ass in the air, my black thong accentuating the curve. He wanted to see me crawl, so I did, slinking in long-legged stretches across the carpet, to the bottom of the stairs. Navigating those was a bit trickier. Luckily, I heard him stand and go to the phone, so he didn’t see my awkwardness. At the top, I could have gotten to my feet and gone into the bedroom, but he’d just said “upstairs,” and he’d said nothing about getting up.
The volume of the music over the in-room sound system grew louder. I didn’t know who he was talking to on the phone downstairs, but I suspected it would have something to do with the noise level he was expecting. When he came up the stairs, he’d shed his jacket and pulled off his tie. Without a word, he bent down and looped the black silk across my face, pulling it up hard between my lips and teeth to secure it behind my head.
My signal when gagged was to hold up my hand and open and close my fingers three times, and all the action would stop, so I was never nervous at having my mouth obstructed. The drooling it would cause would be utterly humiliating. I couldn’t wait.
He grabbed my hair and wound it around his fist, then with a little “hmm” as he reconfigured his plan according the limits I’d set, he released it and leaned down to haul me over his shoulder.
“Mmph!” The startled exclamation was garbled by the gag.
“I have been working out, after all,” he admonished, more like the Neil who was my fiancé than the Neil who was my Dom. He deposited me on the bed and, snapping his fingers, ordered, “Lie there and don’t move.”
At the end of the bed, I’d left two coils of black jute rope and a pair of bandage scissors. Occasionally, he liked to tie me up, and it seemed tonight I’d been wise to be prepared. He hovered his hand over the rope then moved to the wand massager.