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)
How could she look at him, let alone laugh with him? He’d used drugs when he told her he wouldn’t. He fucked her shamefully in public. Add to that the threat of Roy, who was out there planning her next enslavement. Through all of that, she didn’t castrate Jay or throw a spectacular fit. She didn’t cower in a fetal position. Instead, she confronted him with balls of steel and laughed while tied and exposed on his bed.
Laying on his side next to her, faces inches apart, his heart brimmed to bursting. “I fucking love you. I don’t deserve to love you, but I will spend the rest of my life earning that right. You are my music, do you understand?”
Her eyes blinked furiously in the frame of his hands. “Okay.”
“Okay.” He dipped his head and kissed her. His mouth moving over hers and their tongues coiling and whipping, he fed her his breath, his love, his promise to make her happy.
When they broke apart, her lips were swollen and wet, her eyes half-lidded.
“So damn beautiful.”
She grinned. “So you’ve said.”
Perched on his elbow, stretched alongside her body, he’d say it again and again until she tired of hearing it. He wanted to wrap around her and bury his face in her hair. “You’re beautiful.”
“Uh huh.”
“So fucking bea—”
“All right, Casanova. Enough.”
He could feel himself sinking into the mattress. The longer he lay there, the heavier his limbs became. He rubbed his eyes. He hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours. Focus. He still owed her an orgasm, and he wouldn’t face plant until she had it.
68
Charlee missed the heat of Jay’s body the second he left the bed. Boy, he was full of surprises.
He loved her. It was one thing to suspect, but to hear it vocalized with such vehemence made her insides soften into squishy, girly goo. Didn’t mean she wasn’t still furious—
Crack.
Her ass cheek smarted under a sensational burn. She twisted, looked over her shoulder.
A metal buckle wrapped around his hand as he reared back the modified belt. Not what she had in mind for the sandpaper, but damn brilliant.
Crack.
“Unngh. Jesus.” The other cheek pulsed in time with the first. Liquid heat gushed to her pussy. “Again.”
The belt clattered to the floor, and she buried her face in the mattress. “You suck.”
“As you wish.” His hands slid over her inflamed cheeks, spread them, and his mouth sealed over her folds, sucking and licking.
The bedding bunched in her curling fingers where her arms were stretched, tied down near the headboard. He went after her clit with probing fingers as his tongue delved in and out and along her labium. Her insecurity over her scars drifted away under his affection.
The wet slurp of his saliva and her arousal layered the air. After his metal fingered foreplay, the lingering burn on her ass, and his demanding tongue, the climb toward orgasm dangled, a distant promise, but a promise nonetheless.
His mouth disappeared, and hard rubber pressed against the pucker of her ass. “How long has it been, Charlee?” He nudged it against her, not inserting, just a pressing threat.
She arched her hips, tried to push against it. Ugh, she wanted to propel past this without examining the reasons why.
“How long?”
Damn him. “Three years.” It had been one of the few limits she set in her contractual negotiations with the Doms. She carried most of her scars there, but the memories cut much deeper.
The rubber tip moved away, and he lowered his body over her back. The heavy weight of him pressed her into the bed, suffocating and wonderfully comforting.
His breath was warm and steady at her ear. “I’m not going to hurt you there like he did, even if you think that’s what you need. No figging—”
She bucked, wanting the burn from the ginger. Needing it.
“Now hang on a minute. I’ve never done this, and you’re obviously trying to speed past a painful barrier. That’s not the right approach, Charlee.”
Acid turned through her gut. It would tear and bleed, but she wanted proof that nothing could hurt her anymore. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
He stroked the hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her jaw. “Shh. I know. We’ll ease into it.”
Those gentle fingers were influential things. They fluttered over her cheek, lulling, mastering the strain of her muscles until her face was slack with gravity.
The mattress bounced, and his weight lifted. The rub of leather rustled through his movements around the bed. His palm slipped under her belly, lifting. Soft plastic, a rubber ball by the feel of it, pressed against her clit. In the next breath, it filled the room with a loud buzz and shot a jolt of vibration through her pussy.
“Hitachi wand. Best clit stimulator from what I’m told.”
No fucking shit. She pulled her hips up to escape it. His hand caught her waist and pressed her back down.