AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I've never felt… this beautiful. He looks at me like I'm artwork, something precious, but a flicker in his eyes speaks of a deep-seated hunger that threatens to undo his firm composure.
My underwear hits the floor with a ghost of a sound.
He is still, and the moment stretches out like a thread, promising to snap.
He moves, like lightning, caging me in his arms, his mouth finding the side of my throat. He kisses me there and he's going to consume me alive.
"Do you know why I told you to lock your door? That night of the party?" He asks into the column of my neck, and I can't stop the breath from escaping me in a heady whisper, the rasp of it in my throat. "It wasn't because of my brother. I had him handled that night, and made sure he was occupied with gaming and drinking."
I close my eyes, his hands sliding between my thighs, pushing them apart. I let him, the warmth that follows his touch spreading along my skin, building that coiled tension inside of me.
"W-why?" I'm impatient to know, impatient formore.He pulls back from me, surveying me, and I nearly cry out with the anticipation. I bite my tongue to stop making noise, sighing in relief when he lifts me onto the kitchen counter. He spreads my thighs, and fingers teasing along my skin, making me shiver. My face is burning, on fire, as he parts the folds of my pussy, exposing me.
"Because I knew if your door was unlocked, nothing would stop me from walking right into your room and doing this to you."
He falls to his knees.
A duke, on his knees, for me. The warmth of air from his lips is the only warning he gives me before his tongue is laving over the damp skin of my pussy. Oh god, it's everything I thought it would be. My head tilts back and my whole body staggers. My hands hit the marble countertop behind me as I brace myself, the bare skin of my thighs shiver-cold on the chilly stone.
Mason is devastating in his accuracy, and the singular focus that he puts into pulling soft sounds out of me is nothing like I've ever felt before. The flat of his tongue slides through my folds and teases over my clit, not enough pressure to do more than bring me higher without pushing me over the edge. My legs tense, squeezing around his shoulders, and his hands dig into the flesh of my inner thighs, keeping them spread so he can do whatever he wants to me.
It's not hard to know that he's determined to make me feel exactly what he wants me to feel, not when he groans into my skin, tongue sliding deep into me until my legs are trembling, and I can't stop crying out. He reaches out in a heartbeat, slapping a hand over my mouth, silencing me.
I breathe hard, air rushing over his fingers, eyes closed tight.
"You're going to come hard for me, Eva," he threatens, or promises, as two of his fingers, thick and rough, slide against my entrance. "And then I'm going to fuck you over this countertop until you come for me again. You won't remember any name but mine after tonight."
His fingers spread me open, and my body jerks. It's too much. I wrap my hand in his hair, pulling him closer or wanting to push him away; I don't know.
His tongue flicks over my clit, once, twice, and I'm over the edge, my whole body drawing up into the white heat of it. He's touching me, fingers fucking into me with each shudder that rolls through me. He's pulling the orgasm out of me, dragging it out until it's too much, the shock of his touch each time making me whimper into his hand.
He slips his fingers from me, sliding them through my wet folds. His thumb draws over my clit and I can't help it, I bite into the palm of his hand as he holds it clamped tight over my mouth.
"Easy," he murmurs, getting to his feet, cupping my pussy with his big, warm hand, soothing me with blunt pressure.
My breathing is hysterical in my lungs, my whole body ready to fall into sleep.
If he'll let me.
His words, his touch, his gentle, but his eyes are not. They're narrowed on me, dragging me in like the undertow. I can't stop it, or him. Instead I collapse against him, his fine white shirt open around my chest and fluttering in the breeze that blows in off the lake through the open windows.
"Are you going to sleep?" His voice rumbles through his chest, my ear pressed to it. "I told you what I'm doing to you next." He pulls away. "Stand up."
My eyes drag open, heavy and unwilling. The look on his face sends a bolt of arousal right through me, and even though every inch of me is wrung out from the hard and powerful orgasm he just gave me.
"I don't think I can," I say, throat dry. He sighs and reaches for the tap, and pours me a glass of water. He holds it to my lips.
"Drink," he orders. The water is cold as it spills down my throat, and when I'm done, he sets it aside. It's a soft kind of caring I'm not used to. No one's ever… ever cared for me like this. Not when I've been intimate with them.
But then, there's only been one. And he wasn't very good. Not to me. Notforme. Thinking about him hurts.
"What's wrong?" He asks, reaching for me, and when he brushes a hand over my cheek, I realize I'm crying. Salt-wet tears are dripping down my cheeks. I choke back the feeling, not sure why I'm so overcome. Maybe it's the tenderness that he's holding me with, treating me with. "Shit." He wraps me in his arms and I bury my head in his shoulder, hiding my eyes in his neck as the shivers course through me. His breathing is even and steady, his body a safe place to hide from the whole world.
His hand strokes up my bare back, soothing my skin, like he's trying to fix it the best way he can, or knows how.
"I'm sorry," I mumble, waterlogged and feeling stupid. He must think I'm an idiot. His fingers catch under my chin and he lifts my face to tilt up toward his.
"I've used you, without even asking," his eyes are shadowed with a dark grief, and I swallow, shaking my head.
