Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Within them, I also see that the curtains are going to stay open, and I think I may have made a mistake.
“I won’t hurt you,” he says in a soothing voice.
“Promise?” I whisper.
“Straddle it,” he says again, this time with a gentle coaxing filled with promise.
“Oh, God,” I moan, but then I lift a leg to straddle the seat.
CHAPTER 3
Walsh
My entire fucking body is vibrating with need, and this is a cause for concern as I haven’t felt this way in forever. My life is filled with luxury—penthouse apartment, fast cars, the best champagne, and let’s not forget the never-ending supply of sex I get at The Wicked Horse.
When I walk in this place, I’m always filled with lust.
I always leave satisfied.
But I can’t remember a time I’ve gotten hard just by seeing a woman. I can’t remember a time that I’ve seen a woman and needed her more than anything I’ve ever needed before.
Sounds dramatic, but fuck if I can explain the way I almost had a heart attack when this woman in sapphire and peacock feathers started to walk away from the glass. She was interested and turned on when she saw my little contraption, but it was obvious she wasn’t going to fight for the right to straddle it.
I must remember to find her friend later and figure out a way to thank her properly for practically dragging this feathered beauty into my room. I’m playing hardball with her, taking a gamble that by taking away her control, it will make her want to stay, but there’s no way I’m letting her walk out that door.
The contraption is special. I should have named it with an honorary title as it was custom made and brought in for tonight’s event with Jerico’s permission. So many things can be done with it, but only one I want to do right now.
It’s set up about five feet from the glass and parallel to it. The minute she lifts her leg over the seat, I walk around to stand behind her.
She’s trembling—from fear, excitement, or both, I don’t know—but I move in close and bring my hands to her hips. She’s tiny and I tower over her, something that causes my dick to get harder since I could easily break her if I wanted.
Leaning down, I place my lips near an ear that has the tip of a peacock feather just barely covering it and murmur in a deep voice, “Why did you come in here?”
She shakes her head, not in denial of giving me an answer but because I don’t think she has the power to speak. Her legs are spread over the seat but locked tight, and it’s going to take some coaxing to get her to do what I want. The dildo isn’t dainty, and it’s going to take some maneuvering to get it inside what I’m betting is the sweetest and wettest pussy in the club tonight. I can just sense it. I could put my hand between her legs and find out, but I don’t need to.
“Relax,” I growl, not even recognizing my own voice. It’s thick with lust, need, and a darkness I’ve never heard before.
I tilt my head to run my lips down her neck.
She shudders, and I smile.
Perfect.
“Bend your knees,” I order.
She does nothing for a moment, but to my surprise, she complies and starts to squat lower over the seat. Her whimper about slays me.
Without taking my hands from her hips, I lean my body to the left and watch her descend. Closer and closer to the head of the dildo, the stretchy material of her dress riding up higher on her pale thighs.
When she makes contact, her head falls back and full, cherry-painted lips part with a gasp.
“That’s it.” My voice is more guttural, almost otherworldly, and it’s an indication of how turned on I am. “Rotate your hips, Feather.”
“Not my name,” she whispers. It surprises me she has the cognizance to formulate words at this point. I can feel how lost she is to the moment.
“It is tonight,” I tell her. “Now, move those hips. Work it in.”
And fuck… she does. Slow, circular movements as she pushes down on the dildo. Her breath coming in sharp little pants of need. I can feel my cock leaking, wetting the denim of my jeans. My fingers dig into her hips, helping to push her down.
“Feels… good,” she gasps as she rocks her way onto the thick latex.
Twisting my head, I turn to look out the glass and I can feel the hardcore lust coming off the people watching. This is what I really get off on… the exhibitionism… but when I see a man standing there with his dick out of his pants, stroking it hard as he watches my feathered bird, I have an insane moment where I want to close the curtains to block out the world.