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Mack’s brows shoot up. “Seriously? How do you know?”
“He told me he found my wishlist and he bought every book for me.”
Her hand flies to her chest. “Don’t hate me, but if he wasn’t a stalker and a murderer, I’d tell you to marry him.”
“Yeah, it’s too bad about the stalking and killing people part.”
She tsks, missing or ignoring my sarcasm. “It really is.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SAINT
Briar ison full display in front of the camera I hid in her bedroom. Her tits are perky, nipples peaked beneath the thin silk pajama top. Her legs are crossed in front of her, one of the books I purchased for her spread open across them.
I make the live footage from the camera full screen on my desktop, the only light in my office illuminating from my view of Briar’s bedroom.
My cock stiffens when she tosses the book aside and her silk shorts ride up, already barely covering her ass. She slips out of the room and I growl, frustration building in my balls, begging for release.
I sigh when she returns, a different book in hand, and grin when I catch a glimpse of the spine.
S.T. Nicholson.
She’s cast aside a new book for my debut, a favorite with a creased spine and worn edges. She lies on her bed this time, flipping open to the exact scene she’s earmarked with a pink flag.
When her hand drifts down her shorts, I groan. “Briar.”
My office chair isn’t the most comfortable spot in the world, but it’ll have to do. My buckle clinks as I unfasten it and roll my zipper down, cock already so hard it’s almost painful.
Her breasts rise and fall with each heavy breath. My words have this effect on her. My words make her want to rub that sweet clit and bring herself to that height of pleasure. Someday, it’ll be more than my words.
I stroke down my cock, precum already beading at the head. The thick vein on the underside of my shaft pulses at the sight of her, hair splayed out across her pillow, her smooth skin on display, so little left to the imagination.
Too soon, she pulls her hand out of her shorts.
“No, muse,” I whisper, agonized. “Keep going. I need to see you come for me.”
She props the book open on the bed beside her—my side when I finally claim it—and fumbles around beneath her nightstand until she grasps what she’s desperately searching for.
Briar picks my book back up and slips the vibrator down her shorts.
I moan when the buzzing starts and her breath catches. Her eyes roll back in her head for just a second before she’s forcing them open again, gaze darting across the page. I’m dying to know which page she’s on. Which words of mine are arousing her this much.
I pump my cock slowly, even as my balls tighten and ache for every drop of cum to shoot out. But I can’t come before her. I need to see what she looks like, hear what she sounds like, when my words bring her to the pinnacle of ecstasy.
“Agh!” she moans, hips jerking up as the vibrator continues droning and pleasure mounts.
My abdomen tightens, and I won’t be able to stop myself from coming soon.
Her tongue wets her lips and I need to taste her. Need to feel her, to be inside her as she squeezes her tight pussy around my cock and begs me for her release. “That’s it, muse. Show me what you look like when you come. Let me see it.”
“Fuck,” she hisses, back arching and eyes squeezing shut as the next words spill from her mouth on a loud moan. “Oh my god!Saint!”
Cum shoots from my cock, hitting my keyboard as she writhes in bed, book discarded as she moans and imagines that I’m the one wringing the pleasure from every cell in her tight, perfect body.
“Briar!” I gasp, teeth clenching with every hot spurt of cum.
I don’t give a fuck about the keyboard I just ruined as we come down from our orgasms together, panting and almost satisfied. I’ll never be fully satisfied again until I’ve had her.
