A Lesson in Blackmail – Black Mountain Academy Read Online K.D. Robichaux

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Dark, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 63555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
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Before he can even ask, I speak before being spoken to, my words heartfelt and strong. “Don’t stop, Nate. Please. Don’t stop. I feel it too, and I’m all yours.”

And without questioning me, I feel him shudder, and then he leans forward, sinking his fingers into my pussy at the same time he glides all the way into my ass.

“Oh… God!” I cry and feel the heel of his palm clamp down on my mound, keeping his fingers steady, deep in my front hole as he starts to slowly slide in and out of my back one. Every time his hips piston into my ass, it vibrates his hand, the pressure on my clit just enough that I feel everything start to build once again.

With tears still steadily streaming out of my eyes, I give in to all the sensations, and soon, I’m coming… coming so hard I let out a silent scream as I just take it, take everything he has to give me. And when one orgasm ends, another one immediately begins, until more are rolling in one on top of the other, giving me multiples like waves of an ocean.

The water laps roughly at our thighs with his pounding movements back and forth, but I don’t care if it soaks my entire floor. Nothing matters. Nothing. Except for where Nate and I are connected in more than one way, and more than just physically. And I know after this I’ll never be the same. After this, I’ll be ruined for anyone else.

Chapter 11

Nate

I’ve never felt such bliss. Nothing could compare to this. And I’m not just talking about fucking Evelyn’s virgin ass. While there is nothing that will ever feel like being buried deep in that forbidden place, somewhere no other man has ever been before, I mean her complete surrender. Her complete and total submission. And when she told me “I’m all yours,” it was all I could do not to come right then and there, without even being all the way inside her, without even having taken that first stroke of my cock in her ass.

But then she started to come, and the sounds she made, and the feel of her muscles surrounding me was an addictive feeling I didn’t want to end. I become obsessed with it, counting the times I make her come over and over again. And I promise I’ll stop. I promise I’ll give in if she calls her safe word, or if I feel like she truly can’t take anymore. But until then, I keep counting my thrusts, counting how many it takes each time to get her off.

But then her orgasms start multiply and combine in a way I can’t tell when one ends and another begins, and I lose count, lose track of all my numbers, and for the first time in my life… I don’t care. Not one fuck is given. I don’t have the compulsion to start over. I don’t have the clawing need for order and symmetry. I just give in to the feel of my cock in her ass, my fingers in her pussy, my palm clamped down on that sweet little cunt, and when I tune into the fact that it’s my name she’s chanting over and over like a prayer—my dream girl, my fantasy come to life—I bury myself to the hilt and roar as I come, filling her ass with jet after jet of my cum, until I collapse atop her back. But even spent, I make sure not to give her all my weight, my tiny little mouse. As much as everything in me wants to just roll over and die with happiness, it’s the need to take care of my woman that overpowers everything else.

I reach down and pull the plug, and the water starts draining quickly. I carefully, ever so gently start backing out of her, and I know she’s back in that special place of blissful nothingness, subspace, because not a single muscle in her tenses, not even a flinch. Cautiously, I pick her up, looking up and around for a moment, seeing the shower is separate from her tub, and I step out with her in my arms and carry her into the much smaller space, pulling the glass door behind us and closing us in.

I look down into her face. Her eyes are open but vacant, and it would be eerie if there wasn’t a small smile on her lips. She looks blitzed out of her mind, and my chest practically puffs up knowing I was the one who did that to her.

“I need to wash us off again, baby. So I need you to stand up, okay?” I ask, but unlike every other time I’ve asked her to do something, she doesn’t jump to attention without hesitation.


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