Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72648 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72648 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
“Oh, God,” I moan, my hips rotating of their own volition and my eyes fluttering closed so I can concentrate on the sensations.
One finger turns into two, then they rhythmically stroke in and out. It feels good, but it’s also not enough. My hips gyrate, demanding more… deeper, another finger, harder thrusts.
To my surprise, hands move to my hips and thighs as well as my ankles. I’m pressed hard onto the platform, my movement halted. It makes me feel helpless and takes away my control, and God help me… I like that feeling too.
Another sensation hits me… softness on my stomach, and it takes a moment for me to understand its lips. Delicate nibbles down my belly, a wet glide of a tongue. My breath catches as the man’s mouth moves lower until he grazes over my mound. I tense, knowing exactly where he’s going and begging him silently not to stop.
When his tongue pierces the top of my slit, right where my clit resides and licks at that sensitive nub, I buck so hard the hands holding me down are momentarily dislodged.
One of the men laughs darkly, murmuring, “Fuck, she’s sensitive.”
Yeah… no way I’m not coming. What they’re doing to me is too dirty and forbidden for my body not to be completely enslaved.
I keep my eyes squeezed shut, wondering which man has his mouth on my pussy. When his tongue starts laving with determined strokes, I start to pant like a needy dog. My hands move automatically to try to grab onto the man’s head, but they’re restrained. I’m pinned down again. In my imagination, a hundred men are holding me down for the one man between my legs to feast. I feel like a sacrifice, and I want to be devoured.
Lust and need are making me crazy. I start chanting… begging really, “Please, please, please.”
The men seem to be all over me now. Fingers inside me, a tongue at my clit, teeth at my nipples. My body bucks and my hips writhe, trying to draw more attention. My blood is pounding in my veins, and a low, delicious throb starts low in my belly.
Christ, I’m ready to explode.
“Enough,” Declan booms, and my eyes fly open over the command in his tone. Lifting my head from the platform, I watch as he looks around at the men, who have frozen in place. The man whose mouth is on my pussy looks up, an irritated expression on his face. “Your job is done, gentleman.”
A low growl of frustration rumbles in my throat, as I was on the verge of what I know would have been a shattering orgasm.
Slowly, the men straighten, giving me smirking nods before fading away into the background. Back to their drinks and whatever debauchery they might find for the evening.
Leaving me splayed out on the acrylic platform with Declan in the chair before me. He’s not slouched casually, though. Instead, he’s sitting straight with his legs parted. I can see his erection pressing against the soft material of his pants.
He studies me as if he can’t quite decide what to do next. But that doesn’t last long. I know firsthand Declan Blackwood can make decisions when warranted. I lean up, pressing my elbows down and watch him with fascination as his hands work to free his cock from his pants. He deftly pulls a condom out of his pocket, opens it up and has it rolled over his shaft with fluid precision.
And then his big body is out of the chair, his knee coming down in between my legs. It’s like a choreographed dance as he lowers, spreads my legs, and drives into my ready, wet, and eager body.
“Yes,” I gasp, fingers diving into his thick hair and relishing the way he fills me up so completely.
“Did you like those men touching you?” he growls, placing his lips right by my ear.
Men? What men?
All I know at this moment is Declan Blackwood and the fact that he’s driving into me so very deeply.
His mouth moves along my neck before he asks, “Did you want them to fuck you?”
I manage to shake my head.
“Do you like the way I fuck you?” he snarls.
My hands jerk at his hair as I snarl right back him, “You know I do.”
“Then say it,” he demands, thrusting in so hard it makes my eyes practically roll into the back of my head. “Say how much you love me fucking you.”
A staccato burst of words form. “I. Love. The. Way. You. Fuck. Me. Declan.”
“Fucking right you do,” he mutters before starting an all-out assault on my body. His head angles and his mouth slants over mine. His hips drive over and over against me, and my orgasm lights.
A tiny flare at first, but then on a particularly brutal thrust into me, it catches fire. Blossoms, bursts, and then explodes.