Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
He teases me relentlessly, moving from breast to breast, his lips and teeth doing wicked things to each of my nipples, things that have me whimpering.
I'm dying to wrap my hands in his hair and hold him there, but I don't. I don't move my arms at all, instead keeping them exactly where he told me to.
"Gotta see you," he mumbles. "I can't stop thinking about you all wet and naked."
I jump when his hand slips beneath my shirt, pulling the fabric up and over my head faster than I can process. He leans back to drop it to the floor, and my gaze meets his. His eyes are stormy gray again, the pupils dilated with lust as he tugs the cups of my bra down. He doesn't drop his eyes to my chest until the bra is gone, tossed to the floor beside my shirt.
"Fuck," he groans then. One fingertip traces across my right nipple. The tip of his tongue peeks out, swiping across his bottom lip. "Look at you. So soft and sweet. I fucking knew these tits would be perfect." He dips his head, pulling my left nipple into his mouth while covering my right breast with his hand.
My head thumps against the wall, a wave of pleasure rolling over me. "Cam," I cry out, and this time, I can't keep my hands where he told me to. I drop them, twisting my fingers into his hair to hold him to me.
My disobedience results in a harder bite, the small pain quickly flowing into pleasure.
"Told you to keep your hands up," he says, pulling away from me.
I pop my eyes open to find him watching me with that wicked, predatory smirk on his face. The one that screams punishment and pleasure and all those things my body is practically screaming for.
He steps back one step and then another and another.
I watch him, panting, trying to find the ability to ask him where the hell he's going. Before I can find my voice, he drops a hand to his pants, flicking open the button.
I stand there, enraptured, as he undoes his pants just enough to free his cock.
I think I whimper when he pulls it out. He wasn't kidding when he said he was going to split me open. He's massive…long and thick and incredibly hard. The veins are prominent, the head a deep red. I imagine I can already feel him inside of me, filling me. And I want the ache of satisfaction he's going to leave behind, perhaps more than I've ever wanted anything before.
He strokes his hand up once and then down.
The sight of his rough hand on his cock starts a flood of wetness between my thighs.
"Come here," he says.
I step forward on unsteady legs until I'm right in front of him. He puts a hand on my shoulder and pushes gently, making it clear what he wants from me: My mouth.
I drop to my knees without hesitation. He's been threatening to fill my mouth for days, but I think I want to taste him as much as he wants it. More.
"I've been dying to see those lips wrapped around my dick, sucking me off," he murmurs, running the head of his cock across my lips. "I can't stop fucking dreaming about it. You going to be a good girl and give me what I want?"
I swipe my tongue across the tip in response, tasting the bead of pre-cum already gathered there. The taste is unusual but it's not terrible. I moan, and then lick him again.
"Fuck yes," he groans, one hand on the side of my neck, and the other still on his cock. He runs the head across my lips again, impatient, greedy. "Open for me."
I tease him instead of obeying, swirling my tongue around the head, wanting to see how far I can push him before he pushes back.
It doesn't take much.
One more swipe of my tongue and his hand on my nape tightens, desire flaring brighter in his eyes. He tilts my head back before hooking his thumb into my mouth, gently pressing it open. He feeds me his cock slowly, keeping me subdued with his hand on my neck.
When I moan, he surges forward until his cock fills my mouth, my lips stretched around his girth.
"I think you like fucking with me," he says. "You like me showing you who's in control, don't you?"
I nod, unable to deny the truth. Maybe I am a little submissive because I love how he is with me. I don't know what I'm doing here, but I don't have to know because he does. He doesn't ask me what I want or need when he touches me. He knows, and he gives it to me even while taking what he wants. I love knowing I can make him lose control even while he's still in charge. He can't stop himself from touching me or confessing all the filthy thoughts in his head.