Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130924 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 655(@200wpm)___ 524(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130924 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 655(@200wpm)___ 524(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
He bends down and I’m staring at his messy dark hair in awe of what I’m seeing, him beneath me. Then he runs the tip of his tongue over the slit in my crown and a helpless, ragged noise is torn from my throat, my knees threatening to buckle.
Crane throws up one arm, pressing it against my stomach to keep me from toppling over and he lets the flat of his tongue lick all the arousal off of me with another hard pass.
“Fuck!” I cry out against the tie, jerking my hips forward.
He looks up at me, a lock of his hair falling across his forehead, and for one pitiful moment I consider begging for more. He just smiles at me and it’s not a kind smile.
“Did you like that, pretty boy?” he croons, placing the back of his hand against my cheek in a faux gentle gesture. “You might not be able to speak but I can tell you’re aching for more.”
His hand grips my cock again, smearing the moisture down the throbbing length before giving it a hard stroke that makes me moan loudly. I thrust up into his fist, desperation clawing through me. It’s as if my body has finally clued in to this, to him, to what I’ve gone without for a year. It felt the same way when I was pounding into Kat and it feels the way now in Crane’s strong fist, an urge to catch up with what I’ve been missing, an urge to make things mine again.
But then he takes his hand away just as my balls were lifting up, an orgasm building at the thick base of me with no release, and he grabs me by the leather strap at my neck.
“I don’t think you understand what your punishment is,” he says and practically drags me across his room. If my feet weren’t already bound together with straps, I’d struggle from the pants gathered around my ankles, and I can barely keep my body up right. By the time he pushes me over his desk, the corner of it biting into my hips, I’m completely off-balance and at his mercy.
“I’m taking from you and not giving you a single thing in return,” he goes on and the candles that are lit along the windowsill in front of me nearly go out when I let out a strained huff of air.
He leaves me for a moment, going to his shelf stocked with jars of herbs and tinctures and grabs a small vial of golden oil. He pours it into his hands, his eyes locked to mine in the way a hunter watches their prey, and my entire body feels alive and electric, like there is nothing else except this moment, no one else aside from the two of us here. Even Kat seems like a dream, and the horseman merely a nightmare.
Lust sullies my thoughts while faint panic courses over my body as I watch him undo his trousers, the knowing, the anticipation in every movement of his swift and skilled fingers. His lips curl into another smile, his grey gaze still cold and calculating. I expect him to pull his cock out of his pants—I need him to—but instead he comes around the back of me and presses an oiled hand between my shoulder blades, flattening me against the desk.
His hands go my ass, giving each cheek a hard smack that makes my blood sing.
“Am I the last one to defile you here or have there been others?” he asks in a tight voice as his oiled finger runs slowly between my cheeks.
“Countless others,” I try to say through the gag.
But that’s a lie. There’s only been him. I ran away from him and spent the last year trying to find him again in every man and woman I met, but it was never him and never the same.
“Mmmm,” he murmurs. “I’m not sure you were aware of my jealous heart.”
His finger swirls in slick, smooth circles around my entrance, delicate in a way that makes me hold my breath and brace myself because I know what comes next. My erection kicks at nothing, my hands tied behind my back and unable to do anything to ease it. I can only wait.
“My very jealous, very hungry heart,” he adds.
At that his finger enters me roughly, no romance, no trepidation, and I clench around him as he pushes in to the knuckle.
“Fuck!” I groan, the noise muffled through the tie.
I hear him hiss from behind me. “Jesus, Abe, I’d forgotten how damn tight you are.”
He slipped up, called me by my other name, but right now it feels right, I feel like Abe to him, and he feels like the mysterious Manhattan stranger who I let use me for weeks. Then he grabs the oil again and I hear the slick sound of it, skin slapping together as he spreads it on himself, and then feel the heat of his thick crown working through my cheeks and pressing against me.