Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 58947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Still behind me, Naz splays his hand over my stomach and drifts lower, pressing into the juncture of my thighs through my dress.
“Are you really not wearing underwear?” he asks, his voice gruff and maybe a little hopeful.
I turn to face him, walking backward until my knees hit the bed, and I lie down, allowing the dress’s feathery hem to spray around the tops of my thighs, barely hiding the truth between my legs. I spread just the tiniest bit for him but not enough for him to know for sure. With an impatient sound, he walks over, drags me to the edge of the bed so my legs hang over the side, and goes down on his knees. He eases the dress up the last few inches until the cool air hits my bare, wet pussy.
“Shit, Kira.” A frown wrinkles the thick line of his brows. “Is that a—”
“Clit clamp,” I say, widening even more so the Swarovski crystal winks at him from the shadows between my thighs. “Yeah.”
He swallows audibly, his hand hovering over my naked flesh from the waist down. “You wore it for me?”
“I think I’m probably gonna get a lot more out of it than you are.” I laugh. “I’ve been wearing it all night, so when you take it off, all the blood will rush to my clit, and it’ll hurt like a motherfucker, but it will also feel incredible. So…it’s for both of us really.”
I’ve worn this before, and when men see it, they usually dive in right away, eager for something they see as illicit and novel. Not Naz. His stare locks on to the space between my legs for long moments before he runs his palms behind my knees and then up my thighs. He repeats this motion over and over again, kneading the muscles of my legs, skimming my calves, dragging his short nails over the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, all the while getting maddeningly closer, but never close enough to where I want to feel him most. My body starts to move compulsively, in synch with the pressure, with the motion of his hands, rolling under his palms. One of his fingers skims the lips of my pussy, and I jerk. My nerves are drawn tight with anticipation now, and I’d take any touch right there.
He lowers his face between my legs, and I stretch open for him shamelessly, as wide as my legs will go.
“Naz, please.” I hate the begging in my voice, but I’m so wet and needy.
“Tell me,” he says, not looking away from my pussy. “What do you want?”
My hips are pumping, and I reach behind my neck to untie the halter. My breasts spill free, and I cup one of them. His eyes snap up, and his breathing harshens as I roll my nipple.
“I can do this for myself, you know,” I say, sliding one hand between my legs.
His big hand grasps my wrist with firm gentleness and presses it to my side on the bed. He watches my fingers tweaking my nipple, watches the tip harden and burgeon. I squeeze as much for the sensation as for his reaction, which is a tightening of his mouth. I drag my hand away from my breast and try again to reach between my legs.
“I wanna take this off.” I reach for the crystal clamp.
“Don’t you fucking touch it.” His voice is Brillo and velvet, and the command in it makes me shiver. “I’ll do it.”
And then, my god, he does.
He pulls back the lips, opening me like the petals of a flower, and lowers his mouth to me.
Barely.
His tongue traces the clamp, licking and sucking in little wisps of touch.
“Oh, god, Naz,” I moan. “I need you to—”
“I know, baby,” he breathes over my wetness. “Let me take care of you.”
With his tongue and teeth, he toys with the clamp until it pulls free of my clit. The blood flow that was suppressed all night rushes to that one point on my body in a flood of pain and pleasure. Both wash over me in waves, and I shudder as the sensations do battle in my nerve endings. Before I have the chance to decide if it hurts more than it feels good, he’s there, sucking me into his mouth. Soothing the nerves and stimulating them simultaneously. With one hand, he peels me back and opens his mouth wide over me, ravenous, burying his face between my legs and making grunting, growling, starving noises. The pleasure is so intense, I try to slide back on the bed, to get away, but he holds me in place by my hip, never letting up or letting go.
A coil low in my belly starts unwinding, surging pleasure down my legs and clenching the muscles in my stomach. I scream. Someone said these rooms are soundproof, but I don’t care. The whole group could be having tea outside my door, and there’s no way I could hold back the sounds his mouth is drawing from me.