Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74581 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74581 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
I nearly moan just at his words, as I quickly help him undress me. My clothing pools at my feet, discarded, and when I stand in front of him naked, he takes a minute to admire me.
“Fucking beautiful,” he says, his eyes alight with wonder and lust. I gasp when his huge hands cup my aching ass and squeeze. “Still sore, Clare? Say no, and I’ll reignite that fire for you,” he warns.
“Oh, absolutely dying over here,” I mutter, which earns me a lopsided smile. I feel strange undressed while he’s still fully clothed, as if it emphasizes our imbalance in power.
He cracks his palm against my ass which hurts like hell, then he cups my butt and yanks me up. My legs wrap around him by instinct, my body on fire. My head falls back, and he laves his tongue along my neck, my breasts, his massive hands firm yet gentle. We walk like that to the bedroom. I’m vaguely aware of a large glass window and twinkling lights and when we enter the room, the largest bed I’ve ever seen.
With reluctance, he slides me off his body and sets me onto the floor. His voice rumbles over me like broken glass. “Undress me, ptitsa.”
I reach for his shirt and tug it up, the fabric bunching in my fingers as I desperately undress him. The shirt falls to the floor. I’ve never been up close and personal to him when he’s undressed like this, and I can’t help myself. Mouth agape, I run my fingers along his ink, his chiseled shoulders, those powerful, muscular arms as big as small trees. I anchor myself on his shoulders, wrap my hands around him, bend my mouth to his chest and drag my tongue along his nipple.
“Khristos,” he curses. I smile to myself when his pants tent with the power of his erection. I clench my thighs together, my core aching to feel him in me.
I lick my lips and slowly lower myself to the floor. Soft, velvety carpet hits my knees. My fingers tremble when I reach for his belt buckle. I remember how he liked it when I sucked him off, and I’m eager to taste him again. I’d never done that for a man before, and I got wet just hearing him groan with pleasure. I unfasten his belt as quickly as I can, then tug it through the fabric loops. I go to toss it on the bed so I can work on his pants, but he takes the belt from my hand.
“Ah ah, Clare. Hand it to me.”
I freeze. He’s not going to spank me now? But no. With a wicked gleam in his eyes, he glides it over my head and fastens a loop around my neck. My pulse quickens. What’s he doing?
“Take them off.”
Hands shaking, I unfasten his pants and shove them down his legs. His erection springs up. I swallow hard, overtaken by unmitigated lust. I reach for his boxers and shove them down, cup his balls, encircle his thick, veined shaft, and bend closer. I drag my tongue across the very tip, then moan out loud at the salty taste of precum.
I close my eyes and take him fully in my mouth, just as he tightens the belt around my neck. I can breathe, but I have to concentrate. I’m heady with arousal and slightly affected with the choking sensation, but the only thing I can feel right now is vicious, unparalleled lust as it flows through my body like a current. I suckle and tease, before I thrust my mouth along his shaft, over and over.
I love the way he tightens the makeshift noose around my neck, a warning of how dangerous he is, how close to the edge of insanity we skate. I love the feel of his free hand in my hair, weaving and tugging and guiding my head to please him.
“That’s enough,” he grates. “I want to be in your pussy when I come.”
The belt slumps around me, and he makes quick work of removing it and tossing it to the side.
“Up,” he orders, yanking me to my feet. Impatient with my slowness in following on my wobbling legs, he lifts me up and brings me to a small room—no, closet? He flicks on a light and a faint ivory glow lights the room. I gasp. It’s a walk-in-closet of sorts, fashioned with mirrors. There are no walls, no windows, just mirrors.
Wordlessly, he takes my hands and presses them on one of the mirrors as he stands behind me. The surface is cool under my touch. With his foot, he gently pushes my inner calf. “Spread for me.” My pussy clenches. Fuck.
I stare in the mirror as he takes his position behind me, his huge, inked fingers such a contrast against the creamy white of my hips. My whole body fits inside his in our reflection. I’m fully outlined with raw, muscled, inked alpha male, and I. am. here. for. it.