skin.
She thought she would die of anticipation by the time he swept past her navel and lower stomach, descending to the hair that covered her sex.
His fingers played in it, tickling down to her swollen lips. They twitched with the teasing sensation. She felt his breath, hot and heavy against her apex. And then his tongue swiped a path up her creamy slit.
Cerise gasped at the pure, shocking contact. She jolted as he pushed through her folds and found her clit. Her hips jerked up as heated ecstasy spread from the stab of his flicking tongue against the bud. She moaned, straining to get closer. Her core clenched with arousal, cramping her womb with a great longing for something more.
Sensing her body’s demand, he plunged one long, tapered finger into her vagina. Cerise screamed, jerking her hips in an effort to tilt them to the pleasure. She was unaware of the desperate pleas erupting from her throat.
He growled against her, the baritone rumbling inside her with trembling sensation. Burning, searing waves of lust rose to a crescendo as he lapped her, stroked that finger inside the rippling core of her.
He withdrew suddenly, leaving her achingly on the edge of something, something she wanted so badly, she screamed with frustration.
He bit the inside of one thigh. Her vaginal muscles clenched with agony. Her clit throbbed with neglect. She wanted to kill him, realizing now the extent of his punishment—the buildup of sexual desire and the pain of denial.
“You bastard,” she ground out, shaking with fury and receding pleasure.
He nipped her thigh sharply in response, sliding back until his hands wrapped tight on the rounded curves of her buttocks. He titled her to him and buried his mouth in her mound. He squeezed her cheeks, bringing her close, closer, so that his tongue thrust deep inside her vagina.
He curled inside her, his nose rubbing her clit until she thought he would smother. She didn’t care. All that mattered was the pleasure, building inside her again with each liquid, fluttering curl. He ate greedily until the walls of her sex shook with ragged tremors. Then he withdrew once more, plying the inside of her thighs with his teeth and tongue.
He nipped her hips, allowing her desire to subside. Perspiration dotted her skin, between her breasts, soaked her hair. He slid his body up hers, the silk of his shirt agony on her sensitized skin. He tortured her nipples once more, pulling them with his lips, suckling them. She begged him to stop. She begged him to continue. She fought her bindings, unsure if she were free if she’d kill him or cling to him.
As her shaking calmed, he dipped down and began again, stopping each time she neared that place she so desperately needed to go. She was mindless with need. Her belly cramped with pain. Her skin hurt under the slightest touch.
He released her, and she felt that he sat on his knees, looking down on her. She was almost thankful he didn’t touch her, unsure which was the greater torment—the constant arousal or the loss of it before release.
She heard a rustle and then he leaned forward. A hot, hard object nuzzled her aching cleft, sweeping through her slick, agitated folds. She shook her head, unable to find her voice. She trembled, her vagina seizing in mindless response. This, this would ease the suffering.
She felt his shudder rip through her thighs. He groaned, and the sliding became a push. It stopped, nestled in the entrance of her vagina, so close to where she needed it.
“Stop this torment,” she begged, her pride finally giving way to blistering need. She squirmed as much as she could, trying to get away, trying to get closer.
“I cannot. Not until you tell me what I want to hear.” He pushed again, retreated, and slipped along her folds. The rigid length of him tortured her clit. She felt
She thought she would die of anticipation by the time he swept past her navel and lower stomach, descending to the hair that covered her sex.
His fingers played in it, tickling down to her swollen lips. They twitched with the teasing sensation. She felt his breath, hot and heavy against her apex. And then his tongue swiped a path up her creamy slit.
Cerise gasped at the pure, shocking contact. She jolted as he pushed through her folds and found her clit. Her hips jerked up as heated ecstasy spread from the stab of his flicking tongue against the bud. She moaned, straining to get closer. Her core clenched with arousal, cramping her womb with a great longing for something more.
Sensing her body’s demand, he plunged one long, tapered finger into her vagina. Cerise screamed, jerking her hips in an effort to tilt them to the pleasure. She was unaware of the desperate pleas erupting from her throat.
He growled against her, the baritone rumbling inside her with trembling sensation. Burning, searing waves of lust rose to a crescendo as he lapped her, stroked that finger inside the rippling core of her.
He withdrew suddenly, leaving her achingly on the edge of something, something she wanted so badly, she screamed with frustration.
He bit the inside of one thigh. Her vaginal muscles clenched with agony. Her clit throbbed with neglect. She wanted to kill him, realizing now the extent of his punishment—the buildup of sexual desire and the pain of denial.
“You bastard,” she ground out, shaking with fury and receding pleasure.
He nipped her thigh sharply in response, sliding back until his hands wrapped tight on the rounded curves of her buttocks. He titled her to him and buried his mouth in her mound. He squeezed her cheeks, bringing her close, closer, so that his tongue thrust deep inside her vagina.
He curled inside her, his nose rubbing her clit until she thought he would smother. She didn’t care. All that mattered was the pleasure, building inside her again with each liquid, fluttering curl. He ate greedily until the walls of her sex shook with ragged tremors. Then he withdrew once more, plying the inside of her thighs with his teeth and tongue.
He nipped her hips, allowing her desire to subside. Perspiration dotted her skin, between her breasts, soaked her hair. He slid his body up hers, the silk of his shirt agony on her sensitized skin. He tortured her nipples once more, pulling them with his lips, suckling them. She begged him to stop. She begged him to continue. She fought her bindings, unsure if she were free if she’d kill him or cling to him.
As her shaking calmed, he dipped down and began again, stopping each time she neared that place she so desperately needed to go. She was mindless with need. Her belly cramped with pain. Her skin hurt under the slightest touch.
He released her, and she felt that he sat on his knees, looking down on her. She was almost thankful he didn’t touch her, unsure which was the greater torment—the constant arousal or the loss of it before release.
She heard a rustle and then he leaned forward. A hot, hard object nuzzled her aching cleft, sweeping through her slick, agitated folds. She shook her head, unable to find her voice. She trembled, her vagina seizing in mindless response. This, this would ease the suffering.
She felt his shudder rip through her thighs. He groaned, and the sliding became a push. It stopped, nestled in the entrance of her vagina, so close to where she needed it.
“Stop this torment,” she begged, her pride finally giving way to blistering need. She squirmed as much as she could, trying to get away, trying to get closer.
“I cannot. Not until you tell me what I want to hear.” He pushed again, retreated, and slipped along her folds. The rigid length of him tortured her clit. She felt
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