Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 74487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
* * *
His hands settle on my ass, squeezing it roughly, one hand on each cheek and lifts me easily, setting me on the table. The glass surface is cold, my bare pussy shocked by the sensation, my arousal throbbing to life. Oh, hello there. Haven’t seen you in a while. The feeling is so foreign, so long-forgotten, that I almost smile.
* * *
“Lay back,” he bites out against my lips, taking one last, torturous sweep of my mouth before stepping back, his hands yanking at his tie.
* * *
I grip the glass top, sliding backward until my elbows rest on the glass. I stay there, propped halfway up, and watch him unbutton one sleeve, then the second. His breath is hard, his eyes on mine and when he walks towards me, I can see the line of his arousal in his pants. He stops, still a few feet away.
* * *
He's an odd man. Cold to the point of being an asshole, and expecting me to perform as he demands. But I’m used to that. Pleases and thank you’s aren’t required, only appreciated. And despite his cold exterior, I am drawn to him, insanely attracted to him. Maybe it’s the money, maybe it’s as simple as that. But more likely it’s that face, those blue eyes set under thick brows, a mess of dark hair that begs for hands to run through it, a strong jaw and kissable lips. Lips he happens to know exactly how to use.
* * *
My thoughts abandon me as he yanks his tie free and unbuttons his shirt, inch after inch of hard chest falling victim to my eyes. In his suit, he commanded respect. Without a shirt, he has my full attention, a perfect build unveiled as his shirt falls to the floor. I pull my eyes from his chest and return to his face, seeing the set of his jaw, the intensity of his eyes. I hear the yank of a zipper, and my eyes can’t help but drop.
* * *
He is magnificent, every line and muscle defined, framing a package that makes my mouth and sex water. This is the organ that I have already experienced, one that kept me awake last night and started a fruitless self-pleasure session. I swallow as he steps closer, his eyes drifting over my naked body, his hand reaching out and pressing on my sternum, lying me flat before him on top of the table.
* * *
His hands touch my legs, lifting and tugging them outward, opening me wide before him. He bends, his hands on my ankle, his fingers unstrapping my heel, a loud thud sounding when the platform stiletto hits the floor. Then he moves to the other shoe, my foot lifting under his hand when it is free. He grabs an ankle in each hand and places my feet flat on the table, knees pointing to the ceiling.
* * *
“Touch yourself,” he rasps, stepping back and watching me, his hand settling on and gripping his cock. It juts out, swollen and hard. The knowledge that I’ve caused that reaction is powerful, the vision of him stroking his cock the most carnal thing I’ve ever seen.
* * *
I close my eyes. I need the darkness, need to come down from sensory overload. I attempt to ignore my open legs, the view on display for the two men in the room. I touch myself tentatively, my finger sliding up and down my wet slit, slow gentle strokes that fan the already raging fire.
* * *
“Is that what you like?” I flinch at his voice, closer than I expected, and open my eyes, seeing him above me, looking down in between my legs, his hand moving up and down his delicious shaft.
* * *
I nod. “Initially, yes.”
* * *
“Keep going.”
* * *
I close my eyes again, my fingers never pausing in their travels, moisture collecting between my lips, my fingers grazing hot liquid as they move slowly and leisurely over the edge of my sanity. I allow one finger to dip in, to test my readiness, and drag some of that moisture higher, to the sensitive bud that is my pleasure center, circling the skin gently. I release a low moan, the building pleasure too great to contain, and arch my back, lifting slightly off the table as my fingers dance lightly through a torturous tease.
* * *
My pussy is beginning to respond, to flex and pant, saliva dripping from its eager lips. I can feel my clit taking attention, hardening beneath my gentle swipes, each circle moving a little closer. I am a sadistic bitch when it comes to masturbation, and my body loves me for it. I give until it wants and then I withdraw, coaxing my arousal out only to deny it. I won’t come until it begs, until it screams for mercy, the explosion sweeter and more intense the longer I fuck with its mind.