Pure Destiny (PureDark Ones #12) - Aja James Page 0,75
his gut.
She was killing him with his own desire.
“Do you know what I want to do to you right now?”
Her voice was deceptively mild and calm, though her eyes burned like hot coals, the universe in them ever expanding, voracious and barely contained.
She scooted closer until she knelt between his spread thighs, still not touching him.
His breaths were shallow as he stared wordlessly at her, his hips rutting, ass clenching, fist pumping, showing her all of his naked desire and desperation.
“I want to penetrate that beautiful hole with my fingers and tongue, stuff you full and make you mad with pleasure and pain the way you make me.”
Shit.
He’d never imagined…
Of course he knew…
But he didn’t know.
He’d never wanted such a thing until she said it. His body was hers however she wanted to take him, and if that’s what she wanted, then she would have him. There’s nothing he’d ever deny her.
His asshole clenched with anticipation, his entire body shuddering.
“So hungry and dark,” she murmured, staring at the secret entrance to his body, like a starving woman before the richest feast.
“Look at it open and close like a shy little mouth when you’re so, so close, coming inside without releasing your cream. One day soon, I’ll kiss it sweetly for hours on end, until it blooms like a flower to receive my tongue. I’ll lick inside so tenderly. Over and over and over. Would you like that, Dalair?”
He squeezed his eyes shut and moaned in helpless abandon, unable to answer. Every muscle strung tight, his body shaking uncontrollably. She was right. He was orgasming already. But it was happening inside him, deep in his tissues and bones. Even though he hadn’t ejaculated yet.
“Then, I’d sink one finger inside, maybe two,” she continued tormenting him with her wicked words. “Should I do it slicked with my saliva and our juices or should I do it dry so it burns with my possession of you?”
Fucking hell!
“I’d make up for the pain, I promise,” she murmured, her voice low and soothing, as if she was already imagining the process of hurting him then transmuting the pain into voluptuous pleasure.
He imagined it too. His mind flooded with the images in her mind, their Bond making him experience everything she described as if it was happening right now.
“I’d find that tender place within you that I know you have. I know because your body is mine, isn’t it? Tell me.”
He couldn’t.
He had no voice. No breath. No thought. Only stuttering gasps and low moans.
She leaned down and nuzzled her face between his thighs, her nose nudging his knuckles, turned white from gripping his balls, her mouth puffing hot breaths against his shuddering star. She didn’t touch him anywhere else. She barely made contact there.
This ephemeral touch was exquisite torture. His chest heaved, stomach and thigh muscles clenched to steel as if he was stretched on a torture rack in truth.
“I know exactly where it is,” she said, her lips a hair’s breadth from his entrance.
He could feel the satin of her mouth fluttering as she spoke, the warmth of her exhale stinging his most private flesh like a thousand butterfly kisses.
He stroked himself harder, rougher, pounding up into his fist with unbridled fury, the way he wanted to punish her for tormenting him this way. She was going to make him lose his ever-loving mind after he just regained it!
And still, she kept talking in that steady, informative way of hers, as if her words weren’t holding him hostage and flaying his control raw and bloody.
“Just like you know exactly where my pleasure center is as well. You hit it so perfectly every time, like you were made for me. All you have to do is come inside and I splinter apart. Just like that, you shatter me.”
Unprompted, Dalair peeled his two longest fingers away from his scrotum to press insistently on his perineum below.
He was so hard and swollen there. From his lower abdomen to his hole and everything in between—it hurt so bad, this ever-increasing pressure and ache, the fire that burned through him, like a volcano broiling with lava, readying to explode.
And still, she didn’t relent.
“I was made for you too. I’d rub your sweet spot endlessly as I suck on your fat crown like the sweetest plum. Would it fit in my tiny little mouth, I wonder? It’s so swollen now, so needy. It’ll be a tight squeeze to be sure. Just like my fingers and tongue in your tender hole.