Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 215412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 862(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 862(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
She swallows, eyes darkening, and pupils blown wide. Desire rolls off her in waves.
My cock thickens painfully, pressing against my zipper as I draw out the task, caressing the shape of her breast, and testing her resolve. She doesn’t look away. Doesn’t tell me to stop.
“I want to see your beauty mark.” My balls tighten.
“My… Beauty mark?”
“Your sweet little mole.” I rest a finger over its hiding spot on her collarbone beneath the shirt. “Show it to me.”
“Why?”
“Because I told you to.”
“Bossy. I thought we weren’t going back to the way things were.”
“I’m playing with your nipples while fixing your braids. That is where we’re going. Now take off your shirt.”
She gulps, shivers, and slowly removes her top. My attention homes in on the tiny dark mark at her collarbone.
Exactly as I remembered it.
I lean in and set my mouth there, a reverent press of lips, lingering, worshiping. She answers with a breathy sigh that goes straight to my cock.
Without breaking contact, I guide her onto her back and stretch over her. Braced on my elbows, I swirl my tongue around the beauty mark, licking, kissing, and drawing it into my mouth. Then I firm my lips and suck hard, harder, pulling blood to the surface until her pulse answers and color rises to meet me.
She releases a quiet moan, and I hold the suction long enough to leave proof behind for Wolf.
When I lean back, a dark bloom encircles her mole. Wolf will see it, and he’ll know. Her beauty mark was instrumental in keeping me from breaking at the end. Wolf used it to pull me back from a false reality where she was brutally raped on a loop for ten days.
I brush my thumb against the love bite, watching her smile at the tenderness I left behind.
That smile… I can’t stop myself from devouring it. Shifting my weight, I take her mouth, and everything else falls away.
I kiss her with all the longing and desperation I’ve been storing for years. Goddamn, I hunger for her, my heart’s blood, my precious Dove.
The intensity climbs fast, burning from fiercely focused to rabid and out of control. I taste the metal at her lip and drag my tongue over the piercing, the sight of it driving me insane.
She answers with equal passion, matching me with clawing nails and heaving breaths. We roll across the bed, legs tangling, hands roaming, grabbing at clothes and hair.
My little bird is a wild animal. Nothing tentative about her. No brakes. Just need answering need.
My mouth leaves hers to chart a path lower, skimming skin and mapping her hourglass shape. My fingers follow, tracing curves and dips and pulling sounds from her that test the limits of my restraint.
I take my time sucking her pierced tits, then lower, lower, until my lips settle at the waistband of her shorts, thumbs hooked in the fabric.
“Just need a taste. Then we’ll resume our conversation.”
“Yes. Please, Jag.” She writhes beneath my hungry smile.
With a flick of a finger, I release the button and strip off her shorts and underwear in one motion.
Her hand falls between her legs, her eyes wide and searching as she watches me down the length of her flawlessly nude body.
“Show me your pussy, Dove.”
“Oh, God.” She moans. “Words I never thought I’d hear you say.”
“Let me see the cunt I’m dying to devour.”
“Fuck, Jag.” She removes her hand and covers her face.
“Watch.” I slap her clit, making her yelp. “Eyes on me.”
She lowers her arms to the mattress, fingers curling into the quilt.
“I’m going to make you very, very wet.” I drag my nose along the blond strip of hair on her mound, inhaling deeply. “You’ll be so messy when I’m done, you’ll ruin this expensive bedding.”
“Don’t care.” She grinds her hips in the air, seeking my mouth.
I give it to her. Lips, tongue, and hands… I give it all to her, burying my face and sinking my fingers into her tight, wet sheath.
Holy fuck, I’m eating Dove’s pussy.
I’ve seen her naked. I’ve watched her have sex through my cameras, calling it vigilance when it was actually punishment.
Year after year, I followed her from one lover to the next, punishing myself, forcing myself to remember my place. Guardian, protector, oath keeper. Never a participant. Not even a taste.
I told myself it was necessary, that it was discipline, and wanting her was a failure I could manage if I bled quietly. And I bled with every man she took to her bed, dying a slow death, over and over and over.
That ends now. She’s with me the way I dreamed, and I finally, finally, know her taste.
Rich, honeyed sweetness spills out of her, washing over my tongue and shaking the foundation of my world.
This is real. It’s fucking happening. I’m tongue-deep inside my little bird, lapping up her arousal, sucking on her clit, and edging her toward release.