Page 22 of Q is for…


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He relaxed the pinch, instead using his thumb to roll her nipple along the edge of his index finger.

“Oh my god, that feels so good,” she whispered.

“Yes, they do.”Tareq spread his fingers to cradle the bottom of her breasts, his pinkies nestled in the crease where breasts met ribs.

The front of the dress was stretched tight thanks to his hands in it, his wrists forcing the sides of it down.He wondered if…

Tareq dropped his elbows, letting the weight of his arms push down on the dress.That wasn’t quite enough to do it, so he gave her tits a nice squeeze then lifted.Her breasts popped free of the dress, which sagged around her lower ribs.

Nomi hissed out a breath, her head tipped back against his shoulder.

Tareq took his time looking her over.Her breasts were big and heavy, her areolas wide and a lovely shade of brown tinged with pink.His semi-hard cock became a full erection.

“Open your eyes and look in the mirror.”

She hesitated.

“Look at me,” he said, this time making it a sharp command.

Her head came up, eyes popping open.Tareq flicked her nipples with his thumbs, her hips bumping against his in reaction.

“I see you.”He realized too late how stupid that sounded.Like something out of a children’s book.

But she didn’t laugh or smile.Her expression was flickering between vulnerable and neutral, as if she wasn’t sure what she wanted to show him.

“I see your body,” he said.“Can you trust that?”

She nodded.

“Good.Then unless something is making you uncomfortable, physically or emotionally, I want you to stop trying to defend how you look, or preemptively insult yourself.”

“I meant what I said.I really do like my body, and—”

He released one breast to bring his hand up and press a finger to her lips, stopping her mid-sentence.

“I believe you.And I’m glad.But your self-defense mechanism that makes you comment on your body before anyone else can is going to get in the way of the scene.”

She looked like she might object, and he lifted his finger away from her lips so she could say what she needed to say.After a pregnant silence she merely shook her head.

“I’m not trying to deny or minimize your worry.”He danced his fingers down her chest until he was once more cupping and lifting her breast.“But while you’re mine…” He paused, rephrased.“While you’re subbing for me, I need your focus to be on what I’m doing to you.It’s no longer about what shape your body is.It’s about what I’m going to do to it.”

Nomi let out a soft, quaking breath.“Yes, Sir.”

“Good.”

Releasing her breasts, he found and undid the zipper of her dress, which was one of those tiny little ones.He struggled, but managed to get it down.Even unzipped, it clung to her rather than falling away.

Tareq turned Nomi to face him, her back to the mirror.Her fingers tangled together in front of her, and the way she had her arms pressed in at her sides, holding the dress in place around her middle, made her naked breasts squeeze together.

His brain popped up a vivid image of what it would look like if he straddled her and fucked those pretty tits.

Tareq adjusted himself so he didn’t end up with an impression of his zipper on his dick.That done, he caught her chin on the edge of his hand, lifting her face to his.Nomi kept her eyes submissively lowered, and the need to dominate her, to use her all in the name of giving her what she needed, rolled through him like a storm surge.

“Nomi.”

“Yes, Sir?”

“Drop the dress.”

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