Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 65151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
“Does it feel good when I touch you here?” Jules pressed firmly against that spongy, needy Omega place that begged for a knot. A masterful thumb moving to work her clit in time with his fingers’ magic, smearing slick, exposing, loving, caressing until Brenya planted her feet on the floor and arched as if electrified.
The sloppy, hungry sounds of a starved animal being fed. The mews of a woman who’d never been touched with such skill.
Jacques did not know how to do this. His fumblings always for his own benefit.
Georges had not done this. Not a single male she’d submitted to for mental hygiene could come close.
In Jules’s full power, her eyes saw nothing. Her brain grew silent. Her body jerked like a puppet on strings. But her little island… it glowed.
She existed in the storm. Cognizant yet submitted. Knowing only touch, some tiny part of her analytical mind unable to imagine how Jules could reach so many places with fingers alone. How knuckles could find new secrets, how fingertips could tease out zings, how he taught her to take, and then…
The bastard grinned. It was not a soft smile or one of kindness. It was evil. Menacing. And with it came another husky, murmured question. “Or is this more to your liking, Brenya?”
Her breath hitched, a choked sob escaping her lips, as he slid a fourth finger inside, stretching her further. The burn was exquisite, her body yielding as if she had never been torn.
Crooking those wicked digits, he went from softly seeking out her velvet secrets, to assault. Battling against a well-understood target, he mapped her out. Knew how to ruin. Spreading his knuckles, extending one finger, and the thrust of his hand, measured, fierce enough to shove her gasping body up the slippery floor as he battered her pussy to show her how good it could feel should she understand the war was already won.
The counter pressure on her lower belly… how he pinned her and used the exact amount of force necessary to carefully tap her cervix with his finger in a way that made her toes curl as the rest of her wrung around his fingers like a vice.
The lewd smack each time his palm met her pussy, the squelch, the violence of it…
How he knew exactly what he was doing. Ominous dark ocean rushing in and around where she burned bright, the hard, precisely angled jabs of his hand staking claim. It was more than ownership. Her pussy became his slave, twitching and churning at its master’s whim, her cunt glorying in meticulous Beta touch, molding around exacting fingers while he sought out deeper spots, dripping scented slick as he worked her swollen, aching clit with his thumb until she screamed in delight.
Legs shaking, thighs clamping down on his wrist as if to hold him there forever, she came with a rush of such pleasure his name tore from her throat, a desperate plea, a surrender to her true god. “Jules!”
Voice husky with desire, Jules murmured at her ear, “Do you enjoy this, darling?”
Forming words when the insistent throb between her legs had grown to such a fever pitch was almost impossible. “Yes!”
It should have been humiliating how powerfully she responded to such skill. The idea that the Beta would not have been able to perform so laughable she could cry. She was crying, sobbing with relief as what was twisted relaxed, an orchestrated, perfected orgasm unfurling a tight hole that had locked shut thanks to the cruelty of another.
Smirk proud, Jules leaned down to take her mouth. Lips she offered so he might tease at her tongue and play. A monster with a soul corrupted beyond measure spoiled her senses, drowned out the petulant raging of a distant Alpha so expertly that Brenya closed her eyes to savor, to lie back and receive. To float away as the ebb of such pleasure left her boneless goo.
Jules’s ravenous ocean ebbed, his writhing sea of personal demons rolling away from her shores, to leave her pleasure-bleached remains right there, spent on the floor, panting as the ceiling came back into view.
Leaving her vulnerable to another.
Without the greater psyche awash in her mind, a piercing sensation of disloyalty let her know how deeply she’d insulted Jacques Bernard. The imprisoned man himself leaned on their link to denounce her desires, no longer able to force her to come, as he’d lost all traces of desire.
“Brenya! I am your mate! Obey me!”
“Good girl, angel.” Fingers deep inside her, Jules’s mouth was everywhere—her throat, collarbones, the curve of her shoulder—teeth scraping the delicate skin. His lips traced fire down her sternum, tongue darting out to taste the salt of her sweat between her heaving breasts. Each kiss purposeful, deliberate, a declaration of intent that warned what was coming could not be undone. The dark magic of his thick, nudging fingers pulling at her insides never lost rhythm, even as he leaned over her to murmur, “We’ve only just begun.”