Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 168121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 841(@200wpm)___ 672(@250wpm)___ 560(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 168121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 841(@200wpm)___ 672(@250wpm)___ 560(@300wpm)
No pressure. He steadied his breath, relaxed his limbs, and sat on the edge of the low mattress. “Charlee. Come here. On your knees.”
She crawled the distance to Jay, her eyes locked on his rising cock. As if her stare had cast a hardening spell, he swelled to full length.
He skimmed a finger over her bottom lip. “What’s your safe word?”
“Huntress.”
“Suck me.” Imparting those words pumped determination through his veins and a throb to his groin.
Kneeling between his legs and flattening her back, she circled her lips around him, flicking her tongue and sliding up and down in a slow rhythm. A tremor raced over his thighs and his breath caught. Fuck. Focus. He met Conrad’s eyes.
Conrad shook out the whip, and the tail skated across the wood floor. “First lesson, Jay Mayard, is understanding the difference between good hurt and bad hurt.”
Jay lay back on the mattress and gathered her hands on his chest, restraining them there. He understood bad hurt, knew it deeply, but he would listen and watch intently. He needed to give her the required pain without harming her. When Conrad finished his verbal instruction on how not to use a whip, he reared back his arm.
Crack.
Her gasp swathed his dick. He tilted his head and glimpsed a pink line blooming on the rise of her ass. The hurt she experiences is relative.
Crack…crack.
Her mouth glided over and under him, her breath steady, eyes closed. Fucking hell, she was magnificent. The cracks of the whip continued a steady pace as did the suction of her lips. A dozen or so strikes later and his orgasm was simmering, too fast, too soon.
“Straddle me.” Jay sat forward, coughing to clear the thickness in his voice.
She unfolded in a smooth rise and stood before him, gaze resting on his. Pushing her hands through his hair, she climbed onto his lap. Her face dipped, closer, closer, and he arched his neck to meet her lips.
She parted her mouth and rolled her tongue with his. It wasn’t one of her blistering, fuck-me kisses that stole his breath and tightened his balls. Instead, her lips moved over his with apology and gratitude, so yielding and peaceful, his throat tightened and the backs of his eyes ached.
When the kiss ended, he pulled her to his chest and they sat in silence, bodies molded together, neither of them making a move to loosen the embrace. Call him a man, but it was a treasured closeness, with his erection trapped between their bellies, her swollen nipples rubbing through his shirt.
After a few shared breaths, he gripped her waist and raised her, working his fingers inside her. So fucking wet. He replaced his hand with the head of his cock and entered her, gazes fused in a helpless lock. Slowly, effortlessly, he slid her down to the hilt and her groan rivaled his.
Arms hooked around her hips and ass, he held her immobile. “Master Conrad, can you strike her back in this position?”
“Yes.” Conrad tagged a short rope from the wall. “If her hands are bound with yours behind you.”
With a few practiced knots, Conrad shackled her wrists with Jay’s and secured them at the middle of his back.
Jay sucked in a breath as Conrad’s hands moved over his wrists. No shed. No oven. Nothing but Charlee’s muscles sheathing his dick and the energy shifting between their joined bodies. He shuddered. The urge to thrust sent his molars crashing together. He was a pussy-clench away from ejaculating. “Hold still.”
She closed her eyes and twisted her hands against his back until their fingers half-laced together. Her face glowed in the natural light of the room.
“I love your eyelashes.” He smothered them with kisses. “So red. Why didn’t I notice that when you were blonde in St. Louis?”
“Mascara.” Her lips twitched, and her eyes remained closed.
Whack.
Her eyes flew open, and she rose up on his cock. The tiny movement teased electric shocks down his legs. Over her shoulder, Conrad reared back a leather flogger.
Whack. Whack. Whack.
Jay moaned with her as her cunt contracted. He thrust again and again, bucking and grinding, their fingers clenching together and their mouths colliding. With each hit of the flogger, he moved faster, harder. Her breath sharpened, and her tongue slashed urgently with his.
“Jay. Jaaaaay.” Her head fell back, and her body shuddered.
The quake of her release stroked him into a mindless world of sensations, tearing his climax from him in violent waves. “Unnngh, fuck. Oh, fuck. I’m coming.”
Floating down with noisy gasps for air, he dropped his head on her shoulder and savored the sweet aroma of her skin.
She squeezed his fingers and pressed her lips to his ear. “Huntress.”
He felt her message deep inside him. She’d gained what she sought without abusing her safe word. His happiness demanded he kiss her. So he did, thoroughly.