Nipples pearled, she shuddered when he stood behind her, his lips so close his breath tickled her ear. “Then since we are alone and isolated, how do you suggest we pass the time?”
He moved closer and traced the vein in her neck with his tongue. The contact sent delighted shudders skipping down her spine. This Hollywood-style hottie with the long blond hair and Mediterranean blue eyes sparked a volcano of need inside her.
Her voice came out raspy and hoarse, as if she sat on the cigarette and curlers end of a telephone sex line. Not that phones worked anymore. “We could play cards, I suppose.”
Stern and demanding, he stepped back. “Only if it’s strip poker. You are wearing too many clothes. I should punish you for not removing them the instant I ordered you to get naked.”
For all his dominance, his voice held teasing notes as he helped her out of her jeans. Next, he unbuttoned the blouse Bronte had brought her and slid it halfway down her arms. With the shirt cuffs still fastened, she felt as though he’d bound her wrists behind her. With a wicked grin, he lifted her onto the bed.
Cunny exposed, she lay helpless for him to do as he pleased. Hot juice dripped from her pussy, embarrassing her and turning her cheeks hotter than a chili pepper. Desire clawed her soul. She craved his hands on her body and his lips pressed against hers. “If you don’t touch me soon, I’ll explode.”
His baritone voice sounded sensual but commanding as he pinched her nipples. “Sexy little would-be witches who make vile potions don’t come unless I permit it.”
The twinge of pain made her womb clench. The ice around her heart melted, as Plato tugged off her jeans. Moving with vampire super-speed, he shed his clothes, shoved her ankles toward her bottom, and pressed her knees so far apart they touched the bottom sheet.
Her instinct demanded she slam her thighs together and crawl under the covers. As she lay helpless with her pussy open for him, she felt shameful and wanton. The position left her vulnerable and exposed—too turned on to resist him. Lost in wayward longings, she moaned, “Please.”
He stared at her clit. “Your cum’s already dripping from your cunt.”
A moment later, black cloth blocked her vision. Her surprised gasp made him chuckle. Unable to see or use her hands, she submitted to his dominance.
Her cheeks heated, and she knew they’d turned redder than a beetroot as he sucked one nipple while giving the other a twist that bordered on vicious. She squirmed beneath him, half wanting to escape the torment. Her wicked side delighted in the mix of pleasure and pain. “Fuck me, Sir. Hard.”
She felt protected and treasured, a temptress surrendering to her beloved master. Wet and eager, she moaned, “Please, Sir, I want you inside me.”
Where the hell did that come from? I’m usually more interested in books than men. Desperate, she rubbed her thighs together as if trying to ease the scalding need in her pussy. He gathered her ankles in his hand, lifted them until her hips left the mattress, pushed up her shirt, and landed two sharp slaps on her bare ass. “Don’t forget who’s in charge here. You don’t take your pleasure until I say.”
Frustrated, she stilled, but her throat dried so much she struggled to speak. “I’m sorry, Sir.”
In response, he teased her nipples as he licked and nibbled her pussy. His tongue was rough as he swiped it between her legs. Eyes alight with mischief, he tugged the red curls atop her thighs. “Good girl. It pleases me that you call me Sir in the bedroom.”
Desperate and needy, she widened the distance between her ankles. Her hips circled, silently begging for more as he tongued her into madness.
Blindfolded, arms trapped in the oversized shirt, Gwen had never felt so helpless or so loved as when Plato pleasured her into a tailspin of need. When he sucked her clit, she writhed and moaned. His loving started an earthquake inside her, setting an orgasm trembling through her.
He rolled her onto her stomach and slapped her bare bottom. Shock brought tears to her eyes. He’d turned masterful, so stern she sizzled as though plugged into an electric socket. His voice deepened. “I didn’t give you permission to come.”
Before she could answer, he spread her butt cheeks wide. She gasped as he stroked his index finger over her private entrance. She tensed and moaned, but he slid it through the ring of tight muscle around her darkest hole.
His sinful intrusion sparked the mass of nerves inside her naughtiest passage to life. This was a taboo she’d never expected to break, but her bliss-filled moans crescendoed around the room. With his free hand, he pinched and caressed her clit before he pumped his fingers in and out of her cunny. Her inhibitions shattered, and she screamed with soul-deep pleasure and need.
When she teetered on the edge of another orgasm, he slid a second finger in her most forbidden entrance. “We have to prepare you here so we can make you fully ours. Bronte may have taken your virginity, but this hole is mine. Gore loves the control fucking a woman’s mouth gives him, so don’t worry that he’ll feel left out.”
Three different men screwing her three different ways was beyond her wildest fantasies. “I’m about to come, Sir.”
He dropped tender kisses on her neck. “My beautiful little sex slut has no willpower. Come then, angel.”
Juices spurted from her sheath. They covered his fingers and spilled onto her thighs. Once she stopped shaking, he tugged the shirt from her arms. Instantly, she missed the restraint.
Eager to please, she didn’t remove her blindfold. Instead, she felt her way to his broad chest and explored his six-pack. When she homed in on his shaft, it was thicker and longer than she’d expected as it pulsed in her hand.
He mantled his body around hers. “I’ll fuck you until you’re too sore to move. As I do, I’ll sink my fangs into your sweet vein and my cock in your cunny. Bronte’s a lucky bastard, since he got to slake his three-year thirst, but I hate that he left you so weak.”
His wicked words stoked the fire inside her. “Do it. Drink from me. Screw me. Make me yours.”
As he pulled away, he demanded, “Ask me again, but say it in dirty words.”
A red flush heated her cheeks. “My cunny aches, Sir, and I can’t breathe unless you fuck me into exhaustion.”
“Good girl,” he praised as he feasted on her intimate juices. “Since you asked so sweetly, you may come when you wish.”
Her hips rotated against the mattress, and her knees dropped open. He thrust so deep inside her, she’d have sworn his cock touched her womb. His tongue traced her jugular vein before his fangs pierced her flesh. As he drank, his erection grew. She felt unbelievably full.
Another orgasm blasted through her. Ecstasy. Bliss. His bite sent her spirit soaring through the universe. Her blood overheated, her hips moved in rhythm with his, and soft mewls spilled from her lips.
Three more deep thrusts and she convulsed with pleasure. Thick juices squirted from her. Plato pulled out of her cunny, roared, and came like a geyser over her belly and breasts. Totally spent, he removed her blindfold, pulled her close, and tucked her into his side.
Worn out by his loving, she dozed as he held her. Half asleep, she murmured, “Why did you pull out?”
He dropped a tender kiss in her hair. “One, you aren’t ready to carry our triad’s babies. And two, if I bite you and come inside you, I bind us to each other for all time. You’re not up for that yet, much as I, Bronte, and Gore ache to make you ours. Once you are, we’ll hold a public claiming ceremony for everyone to see us fuck you into submission. As we claim you, it’ll forge the deepest and most precious of bonds between us.”
Her smile faltered and her stomach plummeted. The thought of them screwing her before an audience horrified her. Besides, Gore had destroyed anything good between them when he displayed her bare bum to all and sundry. Add in that he’d told her he didn’t want her for his mate, and her heart sat like a stone in her chest.
Rather than think about how he’d rejected her, she dosed Plato with more potions and salves. As she did, her doubts and fears swamped her. Tears shone in her eyes. When he saw her distress, he caught her arm and dragged her onto his lap.
Snuggled against him, she rested her head against his shoulder, and wrapped her arms around his neck. He told her about growing up as best friend to the king’s youngest son. He’d been the ringleader whenever they’d been up to mischief, but Bronte’s innate tact had spared them the severest punishments. “He always tried to change the world for the better, too. Before the plague, he fundraised for a society that helped abused women. I wasn’t surprised when the birthright chose him.”
In exchange, she chattered about her forsaken ambition to explore the Amazon Basin and discover new medicines. Afterward, he coaxed the full story of her ill-fated dash into the village from her. When she told him how Gore had humiliated her, his jaw clenched and his eyes blazed. “I’ll kill him.”
That night, she slept spooned against him. Next morning, when she reached for her clothes, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back into bed. “Not today, angel. You can doctor me as much as you want, but you do it naked. Drinking your witch’s brews will be more tolerable if I can study your beautiful curves. Besides,” his grin belied his words, “I could be dying. You can’t refuse my last wish.”
Her cheeks flamed, but she accepted his strictures. He collected their breakfast from outside their door, and after they ate, he pointed to the wall clock. “Every hour, I want you legs open, cunny on display as you masturbate. You have three minutes to make your pussy shine with your juices. But if you come, I get to spank your sweet ass.”
Her jaw dropped, and her eyes widened. Plato gave her the grin guaranteed to charm the panties off any woman, whatever their species. Not that she’d found any underwear in the pile of clothes Bronte brought her.
Plato’s expression set in stern, dominant lines. “On the bed, now.”
As if hypnotized, she lay atop the covers, spread her legs, and rubbed her clit. Her breath came in short gasps, and her hips ground into the mattress. Orgasm beckoned. Embarrassment forgotten, she increased the pressure before she worked her index finger into her sheath. Pressure mounted, but he’d forbidden her to come. Any minute now, she’d explode.
Plato unzipped his jeans and stroked his cock from base to tip. Desire flared in his gaze as he studied her every move. Three minutes later, he pulled her hand from her cunny and lifted it to his lips. “Time’s up.”
In a slow torture that she never wanted to end, he ran his tongue up and down her fingers, licking her juices from them. “Your cum tastes a million times better than that vile medicine you created. I should eat you out whenever you dose me with that stuff.”
She reached down to relieve the unmet ache between her legs. Plato grabbed her wrist. “Only on the hour, otherwise you earn a punishment spanking.”
Heat simmered through her blood, but she ignored it and concentrated on her herbs and potions. However many times she glanced at the clock, it moved in slow motion. Finally, finally, the minute hand pointed at twelve.
She shouldn’t want any part of this, but her inner slut demanded she eased the throbbing that threatened to consume her. Once she’d settled atop the bed, her only thought was to please Plato. His wicked grin told her that although he understood her dilemma, he wouldn’t let her off the hook. Grinning his sex-on-a-stick smile, he freed his shaft, squeezing and stroking it as she pleasured herself for his delight. The temporary reprieve left her desperate for more.
They repeated the scene over and over. By late afternoon, her every sinew and synapse ached to come. Body alight with sensual longings, she dropped to her knees. “Fuck me so hard that I forget my own name.”
Unfastening his pants, he stepped toward her, his cock flagstaff stiff. “Show me how you pleasured Gore.”
She stared at Plato’s mammoth erection. It lacked the girth of Gore’s, but that meant it’d be easier to breathe while he pumped in and out her mouth. When she thought about deep-throating him, she almost drooled.
Tentative, still knelt at his feet, she rested her hands on his thighs and flicked her tongue over the tip of his mushroom-shaped cock. Eyes alight with pleasure, she smiled up at him as she sucked him between her pursed lips.
He groaned as his penis slid into her throat. “God, you’re amazing.”
His wiry pubic hair tickled her nose. He smelled of tropical islands and summer breezes. Her head bobbed as she snatched in breaths when she could. One final thrust and he filled her larynx too full for her to speak.
Cupping his butt cheeks, she pulled him closer and sucked him deeper. A torrent of seed flooded her mouth. It almost choked her, but she never released her hold on his bottom. His cum coated her tongue before it overflowed her lips and left a sticky residue on her chin. It tasted clean and fresh, with a hint of Caribbean spices.
When he withdrew, she pouted in protest. When he lifted her upright, he slowly narrowed the distance between them. Her mouth dried, and her pulse started a one-hundred-meter sprint. As their kiss exploded into all-consuming passion, she relaxed into his hold. Finally, when she struggled to breathe, he broke off. “My sexy little slut needs more.”
Rolling them over, he pushed her knees apart and worried her clit between his teeth. Her heart stuttered with excitement, her head thrashed over the pillow, her nipples stood to attention, and another orgasm beckoned.
He abandoned her cunny and crawled up her body. The sense of loss was overpowering. Her heart pounded, and her back arched. Mindless and desperate, she writhed beneath him. “Please, Sir, make me come.”
He could still taste the sticky sweetness of her cum on his tongue. Already hard again, he screwed her fast and deep, a primal warrior claiming his captive mate. Heat exploded through her, shooting out stars like a Roman candle. Her orgasm consumed her, leaving her weak and weary.
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