Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 88228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
His lips press against mine, and though I’m tempted to open my mouth and let him in, he pulls back. Then he kisses me again. A short, sweet kiss to my lips. The sound is a soft smack, and it makes my nipples strain.
The sound of a kiss. I’ve never thought about it before. It’s amazing, and electricity slides through me.
I let the sound travel through me as he kisses me again and again. He moves from my lips to my neck to my shoulders. Tiny smacking kisses, and each one leaves me scorched. He wanders over my chest to the tops of my breasts, where the kissing sound is joined by his low guttural moan.
“God, I love your tits.”
They love you, too. I don’t say it, of course. I shouldn’t even be thinking it. I should be concentrating only on what I hear.
He kisses my nipple, and I suck in a breath. How do I escape from the feeling—the intense feeling of pleasure that surges through me every time he pays any attention to my nipples?
I don’t want to. My nipples are so sensitive, and they love what he does to them. I love what he does to them. I don’t want to ignore it.
“Concentrate, Skye,” he says against my flesh.
Concentrate. The warm timbre of his voice. I let it rush over me and flow through me, and when he kisses my nipple again, the sound of the peck sends a thrill through me.
And I begin to understand.
The sound. His mouth touching my skin, and then the slight intake of air through his closed lips. The smack. The sweet smack.
It’s the most provocative sound in the world.
“I’m going to suck on your nipples now, Skye,” he says. “Listen. Listen to the sounds I make. Listen to the sounds you make.”
The tug comes sharply. His lips are firm and tight over my nipple, and I moan. My moan is higher and louder than Braden’s. Has it always been? Have I ever paid attention?
“Oh God,” I say breathlessly.
Slap!
His hand comes down on my other breast.
“No talking,” he commands.
The sound. The blow of his hand coming down on my flesh and striking me.
It excites me. It’s dangerous. Dangerous and intriguing.
His lips clamp over my nipple once more. I gasp, suppressing the words that want to come spewing out of my mouth. Because God, it feels good. It feels so damned good.
How does he expect me not to feel any of this?
I remove the feeling from my mind as best I can. He’s on my nipple, so I listen. I listen to the slurping of his lips. The low moan that comes constantly from his throat as he pleasures me.
The low moan that means he’s receiving pleasure as well.
My nipples are so hard, so needy and aching.
And my pussy. God, my pussy…
He trails his fingers at my side and squeezes my other breast. Then he thumbs my other nipple. He gives me a pinch. A sharp pinch that makes no noise.
No, the noise is in the echo of his low groan and the gasp and moaning coming from my own throat. He continues sucking one nipple. The soft slips and smacks swirl in the air around me, making my body ache even more.
Braden finally lets my nipple go with a soft pop.
A waft of cool air flows over my nipple.
No, Skye. Don’t feel. Just listen.
Braden spreads my legs. Tension whirls through me. I’m aching with need, and this waiting is driving me slowly out of my mind. Lick my pussy, damn it!
I say nothing, though. And again, I try to listen.
“You’re beautiful,” he says. “Pink and swollen and oh so wet.”
Again the low moan. Braden’s moan. The moan that says he likes what he sees.
And what he sees is me.
That sound. I know that sound, and I love that sound. Yet only now do I realize its true significance.
“I’m going to eat your pussy,” he says. “Listen to me eat your pussy.”
Oh God. This will be one hell of a challenge. I’m supposed to listen and not feel? Is he going to let me come? Will I ever orgasm again? Braden has ensnared me with his control of my climax. I never know when or if I’ll get one, and that intoxicates me all the more. He’s a master.
But then I stop thinking. Because he’s between my legs, his stubble abrading my thighs, his tongue sliding over my clit, and that low moan—always that low moan—vibrating against me and through me.
Like a warm waterfall. It comforts me. Both comforts me and makes me hot.
A smack as he kisses the inside of my thigh. A low hum as he slides his tongue along my slit. A brisk inhale when he clamps his lips over my clit.
All from him, while I do my best to keep quiet.