Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
He inhaled deeply, a long, slow breath of air as though he were drinking me in—committing my scent to memory.
“You are a feast for my senses,” he said, his voice coming out in a low, hoarse growl. “Every curve, every mark, is a story I want to learn with my fingers and tongue. You’re so fucking beautiful to me, little witch.”
I saw the faint, predatory glow of his golden eyes in the dark as he stared down at me, devouring me with his gaze. Then his hand moved again, slow and deliberate, stroking down from my collarbone, over the curve of my breast, his thick, furred fingers brushing so lightly across my peak in a gesture of pure desire.
I gasped, my back arching off the mattress. Oh God, that felt good.
My nipple tightened instantly beneath his touch, stiffening into a hard, aching point, my body arching desperately into his palm, seeking more pressure…more friction…more of him.
He leaned close, his rumbling voice a vibration I could feel like a physical caress against my skin.
“Your body knows me—it knows what I can do to it, doesn’t it, my little witch? Your pretty breasts are begging for my touch.”
I couldn’t answer. I was too caught up in the way his velvet-furred hand teased over me, circling my nipple with agonizing slowness, then pinching and rolling the tight bud between his fingers until a soft whimper tore from my throat. Every deliberate brush of his touch sent electric sparks of sensation coursing straight to my pussy. I could feel tension coiling inside me like a spring that someone was winding tight.
My thighs pressed together instinctively, a futile attempt to quell the slippery heat that bloomed between them, drenching my own skin. God, what was wrong with me? I hadn’t felt this raw—this desperate—in years. Not since before Craig had gotten sick. Even then, it had never been like this. Our sex life had been good, but never great. I’d never felt this all-consuming, primal need before.
The monster made me feel wanted—seen. Worshipped and desired. No human man had ever made me feel half so much. Maybe because he was my own private monster, called by the power inside me. If there really was power inside me.
His big, warm hand continued its slow, torturous descent, brushing over the soft curve of my belly, his fingers leaving trails of fire, pausing just at the V between my thighs, hovering right over the deepest part of my need.
I tensed, my entire body going still. Should I let him touch me there, too?
“Um…”
He stilled, not going further.
“Can I touch you here, little witch?” he asked softly, his voice a dark promise in my ear. “Will you spread your thighs for me? Will you open your sweet little pussy and let me feel how much you want my touch?”
For a heartbeat, I hesitated, the last vestiges of my inhibition screaming a warning.
But I didn’t want to say no. My body was a live wire, begging for more. I needed it—needed him—with a desperation I had never felt before.
Wordlessly, I let my knees fall apart, opening myself to my monster completely—a silent, shameless surrender.
His breath left him in a low, hungry growl.
“Thank you, little witch,” he rumbled. “So beautiful…gods, look at you, all spread out for me. Let me see how wet you are.”
His fingers began to stroke along the outer lips of my slit—a maddening, feather-light, teasing sensation that made me moan. Then they slipped inside me, stroking my inner pussy but deliberately avoiding the aching, throbbing center of my need.
My breath hitched, a sob of pure frustration catching in my throat.
“Please…” I begged softly, unable to help myself.
“Can I open you?” he asked, his voice dropping to a hungry growl. “Can I push my thick fingers inside this tight, greedy little pussy? I need to feel how wet you are for me. I need to feel your cunt milking my fingers.”
His hot, dirty words did something to me. Craig had never been any good at dirty talk—he just grunted when we were making love. But my monster seemed to know just what to say to make me even hotter.
“Yes!” I moaned, my hips bucking off the bed, my control shattering. “Please, touch me! Stop teasing—just fuck me with your fingers!”
I couldn’t believe the words coming out of my mouth, but my monster didn’t seem upset.
A dark, approving growl was my answer.
“That’s good, little witch—I will finger-fuck you. But first I want to give you pleasure.”
And then a single, broad fingertip found my clit and began circling it slowly…deliberately.
It was like being caressed with wet velvet. I cried out, my hips bucking wildly at the bolt of pure, undiluted pleasure that seared through me at his gentle touch.
“So wet,” he growled softly in my ear. “Your soft little slit is dripping for me, little witch—coating my fingers. Gods, I want to bury my face between your legs and taste this honey. I want to lick you clean.”