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Maybe I can get the gun. . .
I track him as he strolls casually to the bedside. Pulling out a drawer, he grabs a lighter from within.
“Don’t fight me, baby,” he orders. “I know you’re a lioness. I think he may have caged you. I don’t want to cage you. . . I want my wild girl back. But Ireallywant to spend tonight making my lionesspurr. Making her remember.”
God.
He moves around the room, lighting several candles; the flickering of the flame matches the ticking of my heart - both moving and dancing in the wake of his actions. He switches the lamp off, and the dim swallows my rational thoughts just like it swallows the light.
I can still see him, illuminated in an orange glow. As I tug on the restraints, he crawls up the bed, kneeling either side of my hips.
The intensity in his eyes. . .killsme.
He grins. “I’m nothing if not a romantic. . . now, baby. Ready to purr for me?”
I nod. . .
What?
I fucking nodded!
Jesus Christ, Shoshanna!
Dragging the blankets away from my naked flesh, he lets out a long hiss as he stares at my exposed body. I’m panting now under his almost tangible gaze. I expect him to touch me, but he doesn’t.
As he reaches down to unbutton his jeans and pulls out his cock, my eyes widen. Even in his big hand, it looks heavy and thick. “See what you do to me, baby?”
God.
He strokes his length in a long, slow rhythm, squeezing hard at the base and drawing upwards with a groan. The vision of his tattooed abdomen tensing and the sound of the rumbles from his throat, have me shuddering and writhing between his knees. I lick my lips.
His hand picks up pace. Scorching me, his eyes move around my nipples, drop to my belly, and back up to my face, where he snares me. “Shoshanna.”
“Bronson.” I breathe his name as my pussy pulses at the space within, wanting him, but all the while my mind fills with shame and despair over what he draws so easily from me.
Raw groans spill from him. “Fuck, baby. Look at my cock while I come. While I come all over your perfect tits.”
I watch in desperately aroused awe.
The candles glow. The flames’ silhouettes dance across his body. His eyes glaze over, losing focus as his hips jerk against his fist and its messy and primal and hot as fuck.
Then he slides up my torso. Thrusting his cock between my breasts, he squeezes each plump mound together with his hands. He fucks my breasts with virility and indecency and desperation that is so sexy, I fight the bat of my lashes, not wanting to miss a second. Shuddering within moments, he shoots cum across my lips and cheeks. The warmth hits me, but his grunts and growls of vulnerable pleasure hit me harder.
I moan with him.
As his hand slams into the bed beside me, he leans forward and pants through the sensation of his orgasm, making me desperate to feel that good. He looks so delicious, so erotic. I can almost taste him on my tongue.
When he gains enough composure to lean back on his heels, he gazes down at my cum painted face with that big wide Bronson Butcher grin.
“Beautiful,” he mutters, before crawling down the mattress, his lips skimming the entire length of my body as he goes. I suck a sharp breath in when heat floats across my pussy.
My cheeks burn as I can almost feel his stare on that part of me. Knowing I’m dripping, I just blush harder. Fingers touch the swelling flesh and slide around. Moaning with neediness, my hips seek more.
“Fuck.”He groans, and then his tongue slides up from my arsehole to my clit. I buck at the sensation, so primed, so prepped, so ready for him that the slightest attention may send me spiralling into agonising bliss.
One more slow lick.
Another.
