Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
He shakes his head again, but this time, there’s less conviction in the gesture. He closes his eyes, seemingly trying to ignore me as his willpower falters. So I keep pressing.
“It’s what I want from my Dom. Please, Seven. I want to see you let go the way I did while you fucked my mouth.” My face flames as I say the last part, but it’s worth it, because it has the effect I was hoping for. His hips thrust forward with extra power behind them. But I know he’s got so much more he’s holding back. I’ve always sensed it beneath the surface, and I don’t want to be the reason he can’t be himself and just let it out.
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he tells me, his voice going cold as he stares into my eyes with his beautiful hazel ones.
My nipples harden to a painful degree, finding the sadistic part of him he locked away from me so freaking sexy each time I catch a glimpse of it.
“I do,” I assure him. “Please. It’s what I want. Let go and show me. Let me be brave for my Master.”
And that’s apparently the right combination of words to unlock his cage. Because with a growl that’s not only sexy but scary in its ferocity, Seven rips himself away from me, takes hold of my hips, and flips me in one easy move. I hit the padded table with an “oof” as I land on my stomach, and before I can spread my legs and prepare to take him from behind, his knees clamp them shut. My feet don’t reach the floor, since the table is set to be the right height for his long legs, so I have no leverage in any direction. My arms are trapped beneath me, still bound at the wrists, but the table is so cushioned it doesn’t hurt. I’m just completely immobilized.
And at the mercy of my Dom I just begged to go feral on my ass.
The feel of his long, thick, and extremely hard erection entering me this way—with my legs pressed together, my hips at the exact height he needs—takes my breath away. I’ve never felt so full, not even when he had the whole damn palm of his hand in my vagina a while ago. The sight had been grotesque to my own eyes, but the way he was looking at the act, like it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen, combined with the magical way he moved his fingers inside me, I found myself incapable of caring how it appeared to me, especially as my eyes rolled back and I couldn’t see it anymore. And the orgasms it produced were unlike any I’ve ever felt before.
If the ease in which he slipped his cock inside me afterward was anything to go by, it had made me rather slippery, and I feel my face heat even now from getting so wet.
At least he seemed to like the little bit of extra slickness I produced.
Now though, I’m grateful for every milliliter of lubrication between us, because his dick feels like it’s doubled in length and girth at this angle. He goes slow at first, making sure he’s completely coated, even as his hands suddenly grip my ass roughly, his fingertips digging in to my cheeks so hard I know they’ll leave little bruises. And for some reason, the thought excites me.
My sister and friends have always been so proud, showing off the various marks left on their flesh after scenes with their husbands. But Seven has always been so careful in the way he handles me, the way he’s never forceful enough to leave more than a little red mark that disappears quickly, no evidence left of it by the time we’re dressed again. I was never jealous of their “souvenirs.” I honestly didn’t get why they’d want to be struck or grabbed hard enough to bruise or even bleed.
But now…
I don’t know what flipped the switch inside me…
But I get it.
And I want it.
As he paws my butt cheeks, kneading my flesh way more roughly than during the massage he treated me to earlier, my hips try to lift off the table, seemingly trying to seek more of his ministrations. I hear him growl again, and the sound sends a shiver down my spine that ends with me clenching around him.
“Fuck, little doll. You like being manhandled,” he rumbles behind me, not a question, an observation. One that surprises the both of us. Because I really, really do.
“Yes, Master,” I exhale, my heart starting to race with anticipation, because something within me senses I’m about to get exactly what I asked for, and then some.
And then it happens.
With a brutally tight grip on each of my hips, I feel Seven pull all the way out of me, and then he thrust back inside so swift and hard it feels like my brain sloshes inside my skull.