Page 70 of His Nephew's Ex
Captured, bound, dominated—everything dark that he is. It won’t relent. It won’t ease. It grows bigger, brighter, stronger every time I gasp and moan and am unable to stop the rush of sounds.
“I’m not done kissing you,” he whispers against my lips. His teeth scrape gently, biting the same spot he held earlier, branding me for himself. “But your mouth’s been satisfied for now. I’ll move to other places.”
Raw horror fills my voice. “No—”
“Oh, yes,” he replies smoothly, as though he never meant anything but. His thumbs frame my lips. “Your lips and breasts have been kissed. But your pussy has not.”
It’s just words, just phrasing, yet it undoes me. I’m mortified and intensely turned on, panting, shaking. When I rock forward, my nipple rubs against his bare skin. Damn the leather binding my wrists. I want to touch him everywhere. Bask in the beauty of his shoulders, pull him in and accept every temptation offered.
My mouth works, my nerves raw, twisted to their core.
His fingers move south, teasing my flesh, trailing fire and promises and white-hot need. I’m slick, ripe, unable to stop quivering, moaning in a language only he understands.
Down, down, down his hand goes. The pressure builds, the emptiness only widening the crack.
It’s too much. It’s not enough.
His palm presses my sex, and a sigh gusts from my lips.
He moves his hand. Everything curls at the edges. Folds. Shivering, shaking.
Then he removes the hand and brings his mouth there. His tongue wet, his breath hot, his eyes holding mine for the longest moment before he lowers his head.
When his tongue makes contact, everything tightens. Tingles. My sex pulses, alive and untamed. I’m so ready, so ready. For his mouth, his tongue. For the fulfillment of sensation, desire. An end to the restless, roaring chasm of need.
One lick. Down the length of my pussy, slow, a velvet graze.
Up the length, with the same care, his concentration focused.
Across the entire tender space, making my bones shudder and my legs scissor and my head bounce. His grip anchors my hips, preventing any movement, and he takes another long, slow caress, lingering at the end, the point between my opening and clit, drinking and loving.
And then he pushes his tongue past that sensitized slit, flattening and dragging, causing the sensation to ramp up further. Tension builds and builds. He pushes me, licks, and sucks. Until I’m writhing against him, trying in vain to increase the pace, the heat. My breaths become staccato gasps.
He picks up the rhythm, shifting. And then his mouth is over my clit, taking it within those hot, clever lips and giving it a relentless series of little sucks and hard flicks.
My fingers are clawed and straining. Each breath is a howl, a scream, a sob. I’m breaking apart, thrashing against him. Andstill, his hands brace my hips and he keeps me where he wants me while his mouth steals every reasonable thought and reduces me to a mass of erotic instinct.
My voice sounds foreign. Rough, deep, guttural. His name at the end of a roar, the rest incomprehensible. Primal need collides with desperation, merging. Flares around the buildup, sending it spiraling, spiking. Until...
Scorching heat consumes me, tears through every part of my being, every shred of consciousness. And he still teases and strokes, easing the pinnacle and ensuring it extends, burns bright, and refuses to be extinguished.
My sex writhes against his mouth, mindless, uncontrollable, twisting as he licks me clean. I come and come. How he can extend the orgasm and force the surge to remain, I don’t know.
All I’m aware of is the shock-slash-relief of what seems like eternity.
Then I’m floating in white, in a sea of nothing. Washed ashore like a soul who must be cleaned, renewed. His mouth still teases me. Eases my shuddering until my body gradually returns to itself.
I draw in air. Over and over. Surprise at my own existence.
Then he’s standing by the bed, his fingers at the hem of his briefs.
Sliding them down.
Slowly.
Finally released, his cock is already erect and ready, rock-hard and hot. Darkened, full, and pulsing, it’s beautiful, like the rest of him.
His hand falls to his hard-on. Giving it one stroke, dragging across the precum dampening the tip. He moves to the bed, bringing his erection closer for me to see.
