Total pages in book: 176
Estimated words: 167940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 840(@200wpm)___ 672(@250wpm)___ 560(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 840(@200wpm)___ 672(@250wpm)___ 560(@300wpm)
“You are . . .” Edible? I think that’s what he says as kisses rain down against my neck. The rough evening stubble on his cheeks and chin heightens things as his questing hands do the same to my dress. As the wool reaches mid-thigh, his groan is one of quiet agony. It is the sexiest of sounds.
“Please tell me you thought about me when you put these on.” His fingers spread wide against the smooth skin bared at the top of my lacy hold-up stockings, slipping around to the backs of my thighs, pulling me against his hard cock.
“I didn’t think about you putting them on.” Turning my head, I bite the top of his ear, making him curse and convulse against me. “I thought about you taking them off. With your teeth.”
“You sweet thing.”
My head falls back at his words, giving him access to more of my skin, more of me, as he fluidly drops to his heels in front of me. Pushing the hem of my dress higher, he coaxes my fingers around the fabric to hold it.
His soft curse tells me how much he appreciates the sight. Lacy stocking tops, my underwear almost sheer. But he doesn’t touch me, not at first, though it’s almost as though I can feel his tongue already, my gossamer knickers already wet as he spans his hands over my hips, framing the very centre of me.
“Look at how you want me.” There are truth and awe in his words, and the desire in his expression is intoxicating. As he blows a soft breath against my centre, my entire body trembles and yearns for him. The swipe of his thumb is exchanged for the warmth of his breath, his caresses working me until the sheer fabric clings wetly.
“I do. So, so much.” My words are no longer a wish in the dark, a thought in my head I’ve tried to push away. “Please, Carson, don’t make me wait. Put your mouth on me.”
“Fuck.” His head drops to my waist, the word a groan that vibrates to the very centre of me. His forefinger hooks my underwear to the side, and I jerk as the pad of his forefinger brushes my clit before his tongue becomes an immediate and very welcome slick invasion between my legs.
I cry out, the knot of my orgasm pulling tight almost instantaneously. His tongue begins to lap and slide, his thumb petting my clit in the sweetest of percussions, my legs almost buckling.
“Yes! Oh, God, yes!” My breath is tight, my words hoarse, and my brain is blind to all thoughts but how I want this so badly, this pinnacle. I need it, my fingers grasping the edge of the table as I arch into him.
“That’s it, sweet girl. Take your pleasure.”
“Stop. Talking.” But despite my instructions, his words elevate the experience and drive me wild.
“Make me lick you fucking dry.”
“Oh, God!”
Engulfing my clit, he spears two fingers deep inside me. Sucking and licking, he twists his fingers and fucks me until I’m thrashing and wild. White heat rushes through my veins like pure liquid heat, the sensation between my legs building and twisting before bursting at its peak. I begin to jerk under him, coming so hard and so fast, his tongue meeting my climax, my body rising on my toes as I welcome them both.
When I finally come back to myself, the only thing holding me up against the table is his hand.
“I . . .” I groan, a ragged, needy sound, as his tongue swipes me once more, my flesh throbbing and overstimulated.
He stands then, pulling my dress up and over my head before spinning me almost roughly to face the table. My palms hit the table at the same moment his own smacks the cheeks of my arse—once, twice—in quick succession, his voice a low rumble in my ear.
“That’s for liking Reece’s penis and going to the movies with someone other than me. And that one,” he says, slapping me again, “is because you liked it a little too much.”
I did. Hell, yes, I did, a heady mixture of shock and delight washing through me.
He squeezes my cheeks, handling me like I’m entirely his before his body meets mine, chest to back. A kiss pressed to the nape of my neck. My ponytail held in his fist as his free hand wraps around my ribs, holding me tight as he whispers a sweet litany of filth.
How beautiful my pussy is. How I’m the juiciest thing ever served on this table. How he’s going to spread me wide and fuck me so very hard. I convulse against him, my breaths shallow as he kisses and licks from behind, his fingers twisting and teasing at my front, my breasts spilling free from their cups.
He’s being . . . delightfully rough. And then I realise what this is. This is Ardeo. This is his version of the table and two men. This is him seeing me, fulfilling my fantasy as his fingers fill and maul, the low rumble of his commands driving me wild.