Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
“Do you know he’s a humiliation whore in the making?” I reached for the lube I’d dropped earlier, and then I unbuttoned my jeans. “His plan was to find me, to tell me you two hadn’t crossed any lines, to say he believed you and I belonged together…and he ended up wanting to worship my cock instead.”
“Son of a bitch!” Tate yelled. “He fucking threw himself at you, didn’t he?”
“He absolutely did.” I kept one hand on his back to force him down and the other to slick up my cock. “He brought up kink. He wanted to know more.” I wiped the residue of the lube between his clenched ass cheeks, as if that was going to stop me. “He flirted with me, Tate. Awkward as fuck as he was. He couldn’t resist me. Didn’t even try.” I slipped the head of my cock up and down between his cheeks and positioned myself at his asshole. “And you know what, baby?” With the question hanging in the air, I buried myself all the way in and fell forward with a groan against his neck. Fuck, he felt amazing. A shudder ripped through me. “I almost brought him home with me,” I whispered in his ear. “Instead, I forced him to confess who he was as I rubbed him through his pants.”
“Stop it,” he cried out. “Fucking stop—I don’t wanna hear it!”
A new brand of pleasure I’d never felt before rolled over me. I welcomed every twisted thought, every fantasy, and every ounce of sadistic glee.
I dipped down and traced the shell of his ear with my lips. “He came for me. He said what a despicable friend he was, he said he couldn’t stop thinking about my cock, that he wanted me to use him for my pleasure, and he came so fucking hard when I touched him.”
Tate pounded a fist against the rug and groaned out a harangue of curses—at me, at Franklin—but he couldn’t hide his desire anymore. Everything we’d both fought tooth and nail for to keep buried and suppressed was coming out. After this, we’d have to confront the possibility of exploring a whole new fetish.
Together.
Tate sniffled and squeezed his eyes shut. “Did you kiss?”
“Yes.”
“Did he touch your cock?”
“No, he didn’t earn that privilege.” I pulled back and pushed forward again, setting a faster pace. “The thing is, Tate, I think I need to see you two together. I want to feel what you’re feeling right now. I want that jealousy to eat me alive until I can’t handle it anymore and I stake my claim like an animal. Because you’re fucking mine. And whoever we invite to our games won’t change that.”
He shuddered violently and clung to his old thinking. I could feel it. His body betrayed him, but I sensed he was going to argue with me.
“We’re not into cuckolding,” he moaned.
“You sure about that?” I slammed in harder and began chasing my orgasm. “As soon as I get off, maybe I should take a picture of my come dripping out of your asshole and send it to Franklin.”
“Fuck!” he gasped. “How can—oh my God, Master—how can you say that?” He pushed back against me. He was waking up. He couldn’t resist. “Why does that turn me on so much?”
A growl rumbled from my throat, and I pounded into him. I pulled us backward so he ended up on all fours, and I railed him as I let the possessiveness overtake me and swallow me whole. It was a drugging feeling. Power and powerlessness mingling together, fucking me up completely, turning me into a savage.
We stopped talking.
At some point, we changed positions. I threw aside his pants, and he rolled onto his back, hauled off his tee, and brought me with him. My hands slapped mutedly against the rugs to break my fall, at which he let out a breathless chuckle and dug his heels into my ass cheeks. He was so fucking stunning. I grabbed his jaw roughly and kissed him hungrily. Then I pushed back inside his tight ass and fucked him like there was no tomorrow.
I hissed as he embedded his blunt fingernails in my shoulder blades.
He nipped sharply at my jaw. He clenched down on me, he provoked me, he staked his own claim.
“I need to hear it, Master,” he breathed, “how you own me.”
“Every part of you, for the rest of your life.” I inched upward so I could grab him in a chokehold. “You’re not your own person anymore, Tate. We can go down to the courthouse on Monday—I’ll give you my name. You’ll wear it on your collar, we’ll put it in ink on our bodies, whatever it takes. This is it. It’s you and me. I won’t let you leave.”
He shivered and closed his eyes, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him at peace like that before.