Where Destiny Plays – Regina Kammer
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Buy Links : Amazon | $3.13/£2.36
He took hold of the edges of his robe. Lavinia sucked in her lower lip, watching his slender, masculine fingers stroke the fabric up and down. He chuckled.
“Your costume leaves almost nothing to the imagination, my Lady Odalisque, whereas mine shields all. What lies beneath my robe, you wonder? Will it please you?”
“It will have to, my Lord Sultan, or I am at liberty to leave.”
He grabbed her wrist and yanked her to him. She fell against his chest. Their mouths poised a hair’s breadth apart, her free hand sliding under the opening to discover hair-covered flesh hot under her palm. Her hand trailed lower. She bit her lip as she smiled.
He was utterly nude beneath his costume.
He released his hold, allowing her to slip the robe over his shoulders, down his arms, until it crumpled to the floor. She gasped at the sight of him, his body perfect in its athleticism, muscles sculpted and honed, and on a man her own age, his years betrayed by a gray hair or two amidst the brown at his chest and groin.
Every inch of her flesh tingled with anticipation. It had been months since she had been with a man and here was a glorious exemplar of maleness before her for the taking. She trailed her fingers down his rippled abdomen, following the tantalizing path of hair—
He pulled her against him and took her in a violent kiss, preventing her hand from finding its aim. Did he not want her to give him pleasure? She struggled but he held firm, putting his strength to its intended use. One hand wrapped around both her wrists, holding them behind her back, depriving her of the feel of his body. He pulled down, forcing her to bend into him, his face dipping to her neck, his teeth and tongue nipping and licking until he reached her breasts, a growl escaping his throat. His free hand quickly loosed the buttons of her bodice and parted the diaphanous dress, freeing her to his gaze.
The growl became a sigh. “The beauty of my harem is revealed to me.”
He pulled her wrists harder, intensifying her arch. His hot breath fanned excitedly over a nipple for only a moment before he drew it into his mouth.
She melted, his singular attention to her sensitive tip shooting tingling chills to curl her toes. He knew how to please a woman. How to please her. God, she wanted more, so much more, but she could be happy with just this. She moaned with an encouraging nudge. His chuckle reverberated in her chest to mingle with the thrumming of her heart. He ground his hips against her, his rock-hard cock digging into her thigh. His free hand cupped and caressed and pinched, his beard tickled and scratched, his tongue swirled and teased, keeping her on the edge, somehow knowing if he sucked harder, she would come.
She wanted to come. She needed to come.
“Please,” she begged, flushing in shame.
He stopped his torment and drew his tongue from her chest to her chin, pausing at her mouth. “Ah, my desert rose, do you crave release?” His palm hovered over her breast, cruelly not touching, the heat taunting her piqued nipple. “Have I inflamed you?” He left her breast bereft as he skated his hand over her waist to cup her buttocks and squeeze the flesh. “So delicious.” He skimmed over her hip, pausing to stroke her thigh before cupping her mons.
The breath hitched in her throat. She tucked her hips to better fit the curve of his palm.
One corner of his mouth lifted smugly. He reached between her legs and discovered the slit of her pantaloons, inserting a finger through the opening, then slowly through the swollen folds of her sex.
She sighed an oath.
His smug smile widened to a lascivious grin. “So deliciously wet, so utterly ready.” He explored her depths, dipping a finger in and out, while another dallied near her clit, toying with her, taking her only so far before retreating, then starting the torment again.
She tried to capture the pleasure, to hold on to it, to bring herself to climax. She was desperate for the release he refused to allow.
Two could play that game.
She shoved against him, startling him, breaking free of his hold. She fell to her knees, gripping his hips with her nails, his cock jutting before her, potent and erect. She drew the tip into her mouth, circling her tongue around the cowled prepuce, and sucked.
He grunted a curse and rolled his hips.
She pushed back, preventing his length from entering farther. He would know what it was like to be held captive to another’s wicked desires. She sucked mercilessly on the smooth glans, lauding herself when she tasted a droplet of his emission, salty and sour.
He grabbed her head, impelling her forward as he rammed his hips. She grabbed his shaft and tore her mouth from him, laughing. “My sultan, do you desire release?”
He lifted her from the floor and tossed her on the divan, extending over her a moment before crushing her. He cradled her cheek, his gaze falling to her mouth. And then a grin spread over his lips.
“We shall see who is the true master of our mutual desire.”
He urged her legs open with his thighs, spread the slit of her pantaloons, and positioned himself at her entrance, playing in her wetness. He paused, searching her eyes, his own holding a glimmer of a memory.
She would help him forget his past, as he was there to banish hers.
“Please, my lord, I ache for you. Take me.”
He slammed inside, swallowing her yelp of surprise with a kiss. He moved gently at first, his slow rolls punctuated by moans of approbation hot on her neck. He bent over and took a nipple in his mouth, sucking ruthlessly, determined to complete the act he had earlier cut short. She encouraged him with sighs, basking in the glorious seduction of a roguish and skilled lover.
She came in his arms, the physical release threatening to break the dam holding back the emotional. She trembled as she kept back her tears. He lifted her up, his palms spreading across her back in support, until she straddled him, he on his knees. He rocked into her tenderly, seeking her mouth again, kissing her softly, the bristle of his beard recalling Julius’ kiss and their last embrace full of anger and betrayal.
The sobs she’d fought to contain burst forth.
He stopped and clutched her to him. “Shh, shh.”
“My lord, I apologize,” she sniffled. “I…please believe me, this is wonderful.”
He chuckled. “I know it is.” He kissed the mask covering her cheek. “But his memory persists. Let me try to erase it.”
She smiled. “Please.”
He handily lifted her and turned her onto her stomach, grabbed her hips, and pulled up. He drove into her from behind, the shock of his force spiraling her to ecstasy. He continued his assault as he reached around, finding her clitoris through the slit, barely grazing it. She came, her moan joined by his howl of delight. He rubbed relentlessly, the thrusts of his cock matching the frenzied strokes of his finger.
She let go, allowing him, a stranger, to take her on the journey to orgiastic oblivion. The familiar warmth coiled in her belly above his hand, unraveling with his continued ministrations, tendrils of lust coursing through her limbs until all at once her center imploded.
She screamed into the divan. He pounded into her, grunts and curses filling the air, then with one final plunge he held himself aloft and jerked against her, filling her with his hot emission.
Acquired Possession – Cari Silverwood
Author Links : Website | Twitter
Buy Links : Amazon |$4.06/£3.06
“Thank you, beautiful. Stay as you are.”
The smile Emery glimpsed made her want to touch his mouth, trace his lips, but she stayed, her fingers curled in the fabric, her nipples growing harder, her pussy already swelling with need.
Shiny trinkets draped from Mako’s fist – creatures, a star, a fish, all with clamps attached to them.
“I also love decorating you. Hold your breath.”
Emery lay on the bed, eyes wide, as he placed his hands on her.
One, two, and three of the trinkets went onto her nipples and mound. She hissed at the pain. Another was poised above her clit, the cold metal lying over that nub that surely protruded more than it should from this torture. Then he paused in his application of the little clamps and soothed her with words of praise and fingers and hands. Sliding hands, cupping hands, over breasts, thighs, her face, her lips, and inside her mouth.
With two of his fingers lying over her tongue, she subsided, mind quiet, letting the many pains mesh into some greater thing. He began to play between her legs, and she arched.
Suffering became an echo of desire.
“You want to be free? There’s a primitive freedom in pain and sex.” Mako’s fingers penetrated her, edging deeper.
Philosophy while he fucked her, hurt her…made her sigh. He was right…she liked.
He slid damp fingers from her pussy and around and over the trinkets, kissing, tracing elaborate paths to reach her nipples. Then he sucked on each until they shone with his saliva and stuck up red and aching. He went south down her body, tugging at the trinkets, placing new ones – down the slopes of each breast and across her stomach. Little silver fangs.
If she roused and peeked over the bunched cloth she saw twin silver trails. They tinkled when he flicked the bells.
Dear sweet unknown gods, the delving of fingers, the searching with tongue, how he caressed each deviant ornament or kissed her with force and delicacy when he happened to be at her head end. She writhed into his grip, into his wrecking hands and nipping teeth.
Just when a climax neared he’d find some new place to set a trinket and roadblock her desire.
“Spread your legs, wide.”
Panting, she parted her legs, eyeing his advance with suspicion. From the sensations, he attached a trinket to each side of her pussy entrance. Then he stepped back from the bed, a yard or so, admiring her.
“Pretty. If only you could see this as I see you. Wet, swollen lips and the silver marking out where I should go. The red spreading from where they bite your stomach…” He padded nearer, chuckled. “Lucky I bought so many of these at the market.”
Luck? She didn’t believe that for one second and twisted out an answering smile.
“A little more, Emery, and I’ll show you nirvana.” From a pocket he drew an object then placed it on the bed. “The accuator.” This was a blue metal object shaped like a penis – even here men made sex toys like dicks.
Then he took a pincer hold on her clit and clipped a trinket directly over the middle. She squeaked and almost released her hold on the gathered dress.
Why, again, was she suffering this? Logic had blurred.
Why? Him. Complicated, so complicated. He ate up her pain. She loved the darkness in his eyes, the pleasure he gave her, the way he stopped to watch when she whimpered and wriggled. To her consternation, she also loved her own subjugation to whatever he wished to do to her.
At some point, in the middle of this unrepentant sadism, that alone had become enough.
Your wish is my command…
“Hold your legs up, hands beneath your thighs.”
Such soft words. If he’d yelled, she would’ve thought less of him.
She raised her legs and held them, aware of every clamp and how they wreaked their small damage, holding her in their biting teeth. As he leaned over her clamped nub, she stiffened, for already it throbbed as if about to burst.
But he only squatted and licked her delicately with the very tip of his tongue, drawing a whimper from Emery. Go toward or away from his attentions? At the last, she sighed and gave in. The coaxing of his soft tongue would convince an angel.
Then he rose and picked up the accuator pleasure device he’d left on the bed, unclipped his fly and took out his cock without bothering to lower his pants to the floor.
Being fucked while he was clothed…it had its allure. She rocked her ass, inviting him.
Imagining that first touch, that penetration, she would swear she could feel the warmth of his cock. Blindsided by desire, her legs began to shake.
Carefully, he splayed his fingers atop her knees. “Remember what I asked you to do that day on the top of the hull?”
“Yes.” How could she forget?
To open herself.
Already her hands were wrapped over the back of her thighs. As an offering she couldn’t get much more obvious.
“What do I want you to do?”
She cleared her throat. How had she come to this?
“To open myself.”
“Then do it, Emery.”
Her name. A pivotal word. He made her a fucktoy but she was his fucktoy, and he acknowledged it. Not a throwaway thing. Not merely a slave.
She sneaked her hands lower and found her labia and she pulled them apart.
“You want me to fuck you?”
His eyes were hard, intense. He hadn’t tied her down and here she was, saying yes, yes, yes.
She shut her eyes, opened them, and he was still there, asking.
Was she getting wetter just saying this? Wondering if he’d noticed only made her feel like squirming.
“More.” He snapped his fingers. “What do you say?”
He pressed something on the accuator and purple light haloed the business end.
Oh fuck. That purple?
“Remember the Hall of Lawgivers? It’s the same energy. This should both hurt and feel good.”
Then he pressed it to her clit as he put his cock to her entrance and pushed into her, riding on her slipperiness, spearing her in that delicious way. Her thighs shook, again. She dug her fingers into them to try to control herself.
That first thrust, that ultimate invasion.
Overcome, she bowed her spine, her fingers making bruises, her gasp ending in her stopping her breath. In her ears was the thrum of lust, the squeak of the bed as he leaned on her.
Mouth open, she registered the purple humming into her clit and flashing off his face. Her clit was on fire, or worse. Groaning, she felt every muscle in her body lock. She screamed and came, and came again, rolling into the orgasms as he fucked her, with each thrust slapping her thighs, jarring her breasts and the trinkets, and seeming to go motherfucking soul deep.
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