Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Braze leaned forward, his movements deliberate. He caught the fragile lace of her thong between his teeth. The fabric was whisper-thin and already damp with her desire. He tugged slowly, feeling the resistance give way as she parted her legs slightly. He dragged the scrap of material down the smooth skin of her upper thighs, over her black, leather thigh-high boots, and past her knees until it fell to the floor like a discarded offering.
At last her pussy was revealed—the outer lips swollen with need and glistening in the low light from the flame-wall—so wet, her juices were all over her inner thighs.
Fuck!
Braze felt like he was losing it—in the best possible way. A soft, choked sound escaped him. He was drowning in her…in the sight of her sweet, wet pussy…in her hot, feminine scent. He suddenly knew he had to taste her, or he was going to fucking die.
He surged forward on his knees, hands coming up to cradle her ass, his mouth seeking her pussy in a deep, claiming kiss. His tongue swept between her outer lips, gathering her juices as her flavor filled his mouth.
For one perfect second, she moaned, her fingers tangling in his hair, pressing him closer as she ground herself against his face. But then, her hands firmed, and she pushed against his shoulders, breaking the contact.
Braze groaned in protest, the sound raw and animal. He’d barely tasted her. It was a cruel tease—a single drop of water in the fucking desert!
“No,” Kaitlyn said, her voice breathless but firm. “Not like that.”
He licked his lips, savoring the sweet/salty, addictive trace of her. His entire body was trembling with need.
“How then, Mistress?” he growled hoarsely. “Because I fucking need to taste you. Let me be of service to you—please.”
A slow, possessive smile touched her lips. She looked down at him, her eyes dark with power and desire.
“And you will be of service. Sit on the floor with your back against the couch. Then lean your head back against the cushions.”
A flicker of confusion, then a bolt of pure, white-hot understanding shot through Braze. His heart hammered against his ribs so hard he was sure she could hear it.
“You want to…” He couldn’t finish the sentence.
“I’m going to ride your face,” she purred. “So come on, husband—get into position.”
That one word was simple but devastating. And what she wanted was everything he’d ever fantasized about in the darkest, most secret corners of his mind during his years of being her Protector, but had never dared to hope for.
The image they painted—of her in complete control, taking her pleasure from his mouth, using him for her own satisfaction—made his cock so hard it ached. He thought he might come right then, untouched, just from the sheer, perfect heat of her command.
Braze didn’t trust himself to speak. He simply moved—hurrying to obey before she could change her mind. He settled on the floor, his back against the sturdy leather of the sofa, his legs spread wide. He tilted his head back, resting it against the cushions as he looked up at the ceiling. He was exposing his throat…his face…everything to her.
“I’m ready, Mistress,” he growled. “Come ride my face.”
“Good. Very good, Braze.”
Kaitlyn didn’t hesitate. She gathered the short leather skirt, pulling it up around her waist. Then she stepped over him, one booted foot on either side of his hips. The view was breathtaking—the black leather of her boots…the soft skin of her inner thighs…and her sweet, wet pussy poised above him—but it was about to get better.
A moment later, she knelt with a knee on either side of his head, and reached forward, gripping the back of the couch for balance.
Then she lowered herself onto his mouth.
It wasn’t a slow, teasing descent. It was a deliberate claiming—she was telling him in no uncertain terms that he was hers, to use as she saw fit. Her bare, soaked pussy came to rest directly on his mouth with the heated pressure of pure sensation.
Fuck! Braze was overwhelmed in the best way possible. Her flavor exploded across his tongue—richer and deeper than before. He instinctively tried to move…to lick…to serve.
“Wait.” Her voice was a breathy command, vibrating through her body into his mouth. He froze, looking up. “Not yet,” she said sternly, panting a little. To start with you’re…you’re just going to take what I give you.”
And then she began to move.
She rocked her hips, grinding herself against him. Not for his tongue to find a rhythm, but for her own pleasure.
Braze moaned, the sound muffled by her sweet flesh. His neglected cock throbbed and ached, leaking precum as her slick, open pussy rubbed against his lips…his chin…the bridge of his nose. She coated his face in her juices—marking him, using him for her own pleasure.
The sensation of her sweet pussy grinding against his face was maddening. The heat…the wetness…the overwhelming scent of her…the sheer helplessness of just sitting there, not being able to do anything but let her use him—it was the most erotic torment Braze had ever experienced. He could only sit there, hands clenched into fists at his sides, and take it. Every slow, circular grind…every little shudder that ran through her gorgeous, thick thighs as they clamped on the sides of his head…every soft, breathy sigh she let out, was a gift and a punishment at the same time.