Scrupulous (An Affliction of Falling Novel Book 1) by Kristina Canady Page A

shirt.
    He reveals a lightly tanned, sculpted chest and well defined abs as he goes. An impressive tattoo begins on his chest, extending to his shoulder and down his arm into a full sleeve. The artwork is a stunning mix of a few different styles, mainly Polynesian with a touch of Celtic knot work. Not what I would expect, but this girl is not complaining. Put it all together and it is my own personal show that would receive an Oscar if I had anything to do with it. The moment of space between our bodies allows my brain to run away with me, battering back my sexual nature, trying to lock her back into her cage.
    This is so wrong, and not in any moral respects; more that I am breaking my own rules, it screams in reminder.
    His hands come to rest on his belt buckle as he cocks his head to the side in regards to me. “You are thinking too hard. What is it, girl?”
    There, there it is, a term of affection in this community, but I can’t stand it. “First off, you offend me by calling me ‘girl.’ Second, why do you bother inquiring on my thoughts? An intellectual or deep exchange is far from the set mood. That is not what we are here for.”
    “You have been offending me all night─ consider it an even exchange. An inquiry into your thoughts is a way for me to find a way to lift the burden from you. I want you to shut it off and enjoy yourself.” Something I can’t comprehend flickers behind his eyes as he quickly drops his pants and reveals washboard abs V-ing down to an impressive, thick erection free of any constricting undergarments. The man apparently likes to go commando. Momentarily, my eyes can’t decide where to settle as they feast on the sight before them, finally coming to rest on what is aimed directly at me.
    “My pleasure is my concern; one I have no problem attending too,” I gasp, trying not to stare at it, questioning how the hell that thing fits anywhere.
    “From this point on, it is now my concern,” he growls and eases his unyielding flesh down to hover over me. “Hmmm, someone hasn’t been wearing any panties under that tight little skirt,” he hums as he lifts my leg and runs his mouth down my thigh highs. Leaving my heels and stockings in place, he pulls my ass closer and spreads me wide open for his viewing pleasure. “So pretty,” he breathes as he promptly sinks his mouth down to my southern lips, drawing my hips higher and forcing an embarrassingly loud groan of pleasure from me. All of my nerve endings go on high alert as my body gives into the pleasure. His tongue begins to flick back and forth over my clit in a speed that imitated a low setting on a vibrator. How is it possible for a man to do it that perfectly?
    Fuck me, who cares? I think as he slips one long finger into me and continues to draw me up into the heavens. White-hot impulses fire off down my thighs and through my core. My mind sloughs off all worry and becomes enraptured with the impossible rhythm that he is setting. As a tingling sensation burns through my clit, signaling that I am close, I feel another digit come to rest on the rosette of my bottom.
    Immediately, I tense and try to pull away, my pleasure-intoxicated brain straining through the haze. No one has ever breeched that opening, and I don’t plan to start now. My bottom half is locked tight by his overpowering arms, nowhere to go. Sudden curiosity over his directness has me relaxing against my better judgment, and into his capable hands. This man is an expert, right?
    He grunts in approval as he quickly slips in, not giving me a chance to make heads or tails of it, resuming his devilish rhythm of lavishing the nerve bundle between my lips while pulsing his fingers inside of me. The mix of slight burning and discomfort somehow increase the overwhelming exquisite feeling of pleasure, both consuming me in ecstasy. Vision and hearing disappear in a fuzz of static as I ascend higher than I have ever been taken. My body quivers and before I know it, pleasure