caught a glimpse of our watcher. He was stroking himself through his tuxedo pants and it made me shudder again. Hades’ eyes followed mine and he leaned in to my ear.
“Do you want me to call him over here?” He asked as his fingers circled my clit. “Let him put his hands on you? Or do you want more of this?” He slid back between my soaked pussy lips, fucking me with his long, elegant fingers. I let out a little cry as I rocked against the edge of the stone wall pushing against his fingers. He thrust deeper and I felt his knuckle rub against my clit and my orgasm crashed into me.
“You are amazing when you come for me—taking the pleasure that only I can give you,” Hades’ voice was thick with desire. “And now, it is time for you to take all the pleasure I can give you.”
He quickly turned me towards the garden and I leaned against the balustrade, still shuddering with aftershocks. I felt his hand warm against the back of my thigh as he pulled against the fragile fabric of my panties until the elastic snapped against my skin leaving a stinging trail that was immediately stroked and soothed. He raised my skirt—not enough to expose me, but enough that it would be clear to any observer exactly what was happening—and with a rustle of fabric I felt his cock, hot and hard against my entrance.
It felt so good that I didn’t care who was watching anymore. “Please, Hades! Please!” I begged him. He stroked his cock across my wet lips several times before angling his hips and plunging into me with one deep thrust.
“Don’t move,” he growled, “Be still, and be silent, and I will give you everything .”
I bit my lip until I tasted blood, but I reined in my cries and as a reward Hades reached around in front of me and thrummed my clit with his thumb in time with his strokes. He growled quietly and muttered in Greek as he gripped my hip and thrust again and again, hitting as deeply as possible until finally I couldn’t hold back any longer and I shuddered and whimpered and jerked in his hands, the muscles of my pussy milking him as he continued to thrust, drawing out my orgasm until I thought I would faint from pleasure. Only then did he find his own release, panting and groaning as he kept moving until he was completely spent.
“You see,” he said when we had finally gathered ourselves. “I will take care of everything—give you everything—if you trust enough to let me.”
About the Author
Tacie Graves isn’t schizophrenic; she just writes what the voices in her head tell her to. Living in the middle of the Midwest with her husband and two children, her days are spent in a whirlwind of activities that always somehow lead back to her writing desk and the sexy stories that come alive there (which can be difficult sometimes when she has to explain why she’s looking at the pool guy just so .) She writes erotica for every woman because we can all use a little extra spice in our lives sometimes. Oh, and because the voices told her to.
Playing with Fire . Copyright © 2012 by Tacie Graves. All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or any other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used facetiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
“Do you want me to call him over here?” He asked as his fingers circled my clit. “Let him put his hands on you? Or do you want more of this?” He slid back between my soaked pussy lips, fucking me with his long, elegant fingers. I let out a little cry as I rocked against the edge of the stone wall pushing against his fingers. He thrust deeper and I felt his knuckle rub against my clit and my orgasm crashed into me.
“You are amazing when you come for me—taking the pleasure that only I can give you,” Hades’ voice was thick with desire. “And now, it is time for you to take all the pleasure I can give you.”
He quickly turned me towards the garden and I leaned against the balustrade, still shuddering with aftershocks. I felt his hand warm against the back of my thigh as he pulled against the fragile fabric of my panties until the elastic snapped against my skin leaving a stinging trail that was immediately stroked and soothed. He raised my skirt—not enough to expose me, but enough that it would be clear to any observer exactly what was happening—and with a rustle of fabric I felt his cock, hot and hard against my entrance.
It felt so good that I didn’t care who was watching anymore. “Please, Hades! Please!” I begged him. He stroked his cock across my wet lips several times before angling his hips and plunging into me with one deep thrust.
“Don’t move,” he growled, “Be still, and be silent, and I will give you everything .”
I bit my lip until I tasted blood, but I reined in my cries and as a reward Hades reached around in front of me and thrummed my clit with his thumb in time with his strokes. He growled quietly and muttered in Greek as he gripped my hip and thrust again and again, hitting as deeply as possible until finally I couldn’t hold back any longer and I shuddered and whimpered and jerked in his hands, the muscles of my pussy milking him as he continued to thrust, drawing out my orgasm until I thought I would faint from pleasure. Only then did he find his own release, panting and groaning as he kept moving until he was completely spent.
“You see,” he said when we had finally gathered ourselves. “I will take care of everything—give you everything—if you trust enough to let me.”
About the Author
Tacie Graves isn’t schizophrenic; she just writes what the voices in her head tell her to. Living in the middle of the Midwest with her husband and two children, her days are spent in a whirlwind of activities that always somehow lead back to her writing desk and the sexy stories that come alive there (which can be difficult sometimes when she has to explain why she’s looking at the pool guy just so .) She writes erotica for every woman because we can all use a little extra spice in our lives sometimes. Oh, and because the voices told her to.
Playing with Fire . Copyright © 2012 by Tacie Graves. All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or any other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used facetiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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