Total pages in book: 172
Estimated words: 155984 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155984 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
He sat up on the railing, casually circling his cock with his fist. “I’m going to touch you, get your body used to the feel of my hands on you. There’s no way to fuck you, Flambé, the way you need to be fucked without my hands and mouth all over you.” His voice was the one he used when he expected obedience. His dominant voice. The one she always responded to, and now, more than ever, she desperately needed it.
“You are going to think about nothing else but pleasing me. Taking care of me. Not yourself. This isn’t about you. I’m the most important thing in your world. You want me to feel the most pleasure you’ve ever given me. That’s all that’s going to be in your head. Anything else comes in, you push it out. Do you understand me?”
Her gaze was riveted to his fist, that casual slide as he pumped up and down, and those little white drops that made her mouth water. Her entire body shook with need. The idea of his hands touching her skin was terrifying to her, but at the same time, she needed his cock. In her mouth. Inside her. Everywhere. She was going to die if the fire inside burned any hotter, and it had just started.
Sevastyan reached out in his abrupt way, grasped her hair and pulled her close, almost making her lose her balance. It was the same firm, decisive movement he used when tying her hands. It got her attention instantly. He didn’t let loose of her hair, but instead, tilted her head back more.
“I asked you a question.”
She touched her tongue to her lips. “Yes. I understand. I’ll try.”
“I don’t expect you to try, Flambé. I expect you to do it.” There was no give in him. “We are going to succeed.”
She nodded and stared into his eyes. He could mesmerize her with his eyes. He had no idea the control he had over her with his eyes and his voice. Or maybe he did. His touch. The confident way the rope slid through his hands. When she watched that, she knew she associated the rope with him. That he wrapped her with himself when he wrapped her with that rope. She wanted him—wanted that same feeling of safety she got in the ropes when she was outside of the knots when she was with him. She needed it now more than ever.
She leaned into him and let her hands shape his thighs, feel his muscles. He sat with his thighs apart. He always was so casual about nudity. Most shifters were. He was particularly beautiful to her and she needed to get her mind right, to put him first so she wouldn’t jump back when she accidently brushed her nipple against his leg as she leaned to close.
He covered her breast with his palm and she had to smother a cry as flames shot straight to her sex. Deep inside that volcano grew hotter, sending thick rivers of molten lava running through her veins to every part of her body, igniting bundles of nerve endings. He left his hand over her breast while the other stayed in her hair. Both hands felt aggressive, rough, the touch possessive, not at all light or tentative. Her body reacted with flaring heat, but less pain.
“I want your mouth on me, Flambé.”
She licked up his inner thigh and then over and around his velvety balls before complying, getting him wet, running her tongue up and down that thick shaft. Teasing under his crown, running along the thick vein and back down to the base. She licked at the drops that instantly tasted like an aphrodisiac, sucking at them and swallowed them down, eager for more, before she slowly engulfed that broad head.
Sevastyan took a deep controlling breath and removed his hand very carefully from between his leg and her breast, murmuring soothingly to her as he did so. He kept his voice steady, disciplined, the voice he used when tying, knowing she responded to that best. Just that movement would send streaks of fire darting from her nipple to her clit. He felt her body flinch and her mouth clamp down around his cock as she did her best to ignore the sensations building.
Quickly, he tore out the scrunchie she’d haphazardly put her hair up with and gathered the mass tighter, twisting it quickly, braiding it partially so it would stay higher and off her skin, even if they got wild, which there was no question would happen. Once he had it up, he put the scrunchie back in, securing the mass even tighter than she’d had it to make sure it wouldn’t fall. It wasn’t an easy task when her mouth was surrounding him with such heat.
He stroked her shoulders, using rougher touches. He’d noticed before the kinds of brushes on her skin that heightened her pleasure or could confuse her body, bringing her too close to pain to make the touch truly pleasurable. He might be a dominant, and he preferred erotic bondage and intense play, but not if it hurt her. The moment she said it hurt, he would stop and they would never repeat the act again. She needed firm, not light, and he massaged her arms and shoulders, her neck, digging his fingers into her muscles as if he owned her.