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)
“Are you sure?” he asked me, pulling out again. “You were the one who said it would be a nightmare to get fucked by me.”
What—no! They’d been twisting my words!
I tipped my head back to be able to face him, and he chose that moment to smirk wickedly and push inside me with force he hadn’t used before. I let out a silent shout and screwed my eyes shut, and it was physically impossible to suck air into my lungs.
“No more suffering tonight, Franklin.” His ragged murmur invaded my senses and pushed past the fiery hurt. “You’ve been such a good slut. You answered all our questions, and you fell into every trap we laid for you. You showed us what a desperate, willing fuckhole you are, and this is your reward.”
Oh God. I blushed furiously and melted at his words. His dirty talk set off a storm within me, where embarrassment and pride warred with each other, where I could take pleasure from both worlds, where it was okay for me to be proud of being a worthless fuckhole. I liked that word. It was me. I was his fuckhole.
Incoherent moans and mumbles seeped into the fog I was in, and it took me a moment to realize the unfiltered rambling came from my mouth. I was the one moaning about how I wanted to be his perfect fuckhole, how much I loved his cock, and how good it felt when he touched me.
He alternated between stroking my cock and squeezing my balls. Then he told me to take over, and he shifted his hand to my throat.
“Thank your Handler for letting the whore breathe,” he commanded, his own breath strained.
“Thank you for letting me breathe, Handler,” I moaned. I barely knew what I was saying. I was so fucking hard and hungry for him that I’d say anything. He made my brain spin, spiral, and swim.
The way he consumed me erased the rest of my world. I felt only his big cock pushing in and out of my ass, quick and hard, and his rough fingers applying pressure below my jaw. His voice, how he grunted and groaned in sync with my breathless sounds, the smell of sex and his body wash or whatever it was that smelled so amazing—I was just done for. And so was my body. My orgasm came rushing at me, and I had no time whatsoever to warn him—or to ask if I could come.
The whore just came.
I groaned loudly and rubbed myself shamelessly, and rope after rope of come landed on the sheet next to me.
Kingsley wasn’t far behind. He used me ruthlessly the last minute or so until he gritted out a curse and started coming deep inside me.
I couldn’t stop panting.
I couldn’t see outside of our bubble either. I blinked and tried to will my stare to shift to another spot, and nothing worked. Tate was sitting in the corner somewhere, and I couldn’t bring myself to look his way.
“Christ, that felt good,” Kingsley said, breathing heavily. “Tate, come take the rubber and clean my cock with your mouth. You should taste how much your friend’s asshole just made me come. Fucking hell.”
I didn’t think it was possible, but that made me flush scarlet. He was truly coming at Tate without mercy.
I winced at the soreness in my ass, and I turned around and tested the waters by sneaking into Kingsley’s embrace.
He flashed me a lazy grin and then dipped down and kissed me hard.
“You’re incredible, slut.”
I was incredible. I smiled uncharacteristically widely and felt ten feet tall.
But…my dirty mind was already spinning. I wanted to know what it would feel like to receive Tate’s order. If Kingsley fucked Tate and then ordered me to clean off his cock. Without the condom in the way. Oh, I was sick. And yet, what a deliciously humiliating thought.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Franklin Townsend
At four in the morning, I found myself stepping out onto the patio behind the estate, and imagine my surprise when I saw Noa pacing on the deck while he was on the phone.
What on earth?
I’d woken up to go to the bathroom, and then my mind hadn’t stopped spinning enough for me to go back to sleep. Not the dirty spinning this time either. So I had gone downstairs, been delighted to find a coffee machine in the big kitchen, and I’d thought, well, perhaps I could sort through my thoughts over a cup of coffee on the patio.
Since the porch lights were already on, Noa spotted me as soon as I set foot on the deck, and he grinned sleepily and waved at me.
I mustered a polite smile, then made a vague gesture to one of the tables. The patio had been designed for grand get-togethers, barbecues, and hot-tub parties.
Noa nodded and gestured back, signaling it was okay I sat down. I didn’t want to intrude, which I hadn’t thought could be an issue at this hour.