Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 121324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
She might have thought he was just trying to rile her if she didn’t know from experience that he was totally capable of leaving her a sexual mess for a few hours. Such was the life of a mental sadist.
He’d make it up to her in style later—always did. But she didn’t want to come later. She wanted to come now.
Wynter flexed her fingers, scratching the bedsheet. Begging would have no effect on him. Threats would be just as useless. Bartering wouldn’t work either. And pouring the submission on thick would be equally ineffective. There was no way to “play” Cain. When he was in charge, he was in charge. Which was pretty much always.
“I know what you’d prefer I do, but the thing is”—he skimmed his knuckles between her slick folds—“if I take you now, it’s going to get intense.”
For Cain, “intense” didn’t mean “rough.” It meant he’d drive her nuts—usually via orgasm denial, far too much teasing, and taking his sweet time.
“Think you can handle it, or would you rather I jacked off all over you to take the edge off?”
She licked her lips. “I can handle it.”
“Good girl.” He splayed his hands on her thighs and smoothed them up and over her ass. “Quick warning, you’re going to be a mess when I’m done. I’m going to fuck with your head, body, and soul. And I won’t stop until your throat is sore from screaming.”
Little electric sparks of pleasure skipped along her soul, snapping and popping. Wynter cried out. Her muscles jumped. Her skin prickled. Every little hair on her body rose.
“I want to take up every corner of your mind,” he said, swiping the head of his cock between her folds. “Until every thought that flows through it belongs to me.” He lodged the broad tip in her pussy, pushed an inch inside her . . . but then he withdrew.
Motherfucker.
An outpouring of decadent pleasure burbled over her soul like water in a brook just as his body enfolded hers. Gentle fingers softly circled her nipples, never quite touching them. The taut buds tightened to the point of pain. Her breasts felt swollen and achy and, God, why wouldn’t he just fucking squeeze them or something?
A cold, tingly wave rolled along her soul. Wynter gasped. Jesus, she hadn’t expected the cold. Hadn’t thought—
He slammed his cock home, throwing her into an orgasm that wracked her body and dragged a scream out of her.
Oh, apparently there wouldn’t be orgasm denial tonight. Awesome.
“Love watching you come,” he said as he slowly reared his hips back.
And then he fully withdrew his cock again.
No, no, no, she needed to be fucked. “Cain, don’t—” Ice-cold sensation sprayed her soul, quickly followed by fiery lashes. The combination . . . God, she didn’t know how to process it. He did it again and again, working his way up the intensity scale but then backing off.
Her heart galloped in her chest. Her lungs burned for air. Her skin felt uncomfortably hot.
Blunt nails scored her back, wrenching a hiss from her. But then his hands were stroking her, soft and sure as he traced, explored, and teased. Teased. A frustrated groan chafed her dry throat.
He thrashed her soul with lightning-fast whips—some hot, some cold, some hard, some light. There was no pattern to follow; no way to guess what was coming next.
She squeezed her eyes shut, so mentally off-balance she couldn’t get her thoughts straight anymore. Her body was dangling on the edge of an orgasm, and she was desperate to chase it but couldn’t.
His hand sharply came down on her ass. Her head snapped up in shock. Enjoying the sting, she braced herself for more. But “more” didn’t come. Nothing—
Two fingers stabbed into her pussy as he spanked her once more, and she imploded again with yet another scream.
She gasped for breath as she came down from her high, her muscles trembling. “Cain . . .” A stinging smack to her soul made her jump. There was another, and then another as he pretty much paddled her very being. All the while, he softly ghosted the pads of his fingers over her back. The mix of rough and gentle was a mindfuck.
More sensations assaulted her. She lost all concept of time as her soul was stroked, whipped, licked, and scraped. So much pleasure, so much pain, so much torture.
She didn’t think she’d be able to come again, but she did. Twice. And still, he didn’t stop teasing her. He kept going. And she realized that being thrown into one release after another without getting fucked was even more torturous than orgasm denial.
She was flooded by so many endorphins she was barely conscious. Dazed. Floating. No, drowning.
“Does your head feel thoroughly fucked yet?”
Wynter could only nod. She was beyond words. Her synapses were fried. Her brain had short-circuited. She was over-sensitized on every level.