Beauty Becomes You (Beauty 4) - Page 2

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He’d meant to go down on her, to lick and suck her body, to role play a sensual test, but she knelt in front of him and every thought, every teasing quip flew out of his brain. He could see the shadow between her breasts through the low V of the shirt she wore. Her eyes were heavy lidded with arousal. She tugged the band of his sweatpants down, releasing his heavy, full cock into her palm. She held him up, as if testing his weight. Her palm looked small and pale beneath the ruddy girth of him. Delicate fingers wrapping around pulsing, hungry flesh.

“Erin.”

“I know,” she whispered. “It hurts, doesn’t it?”

Jesus. Every night she grew more sure in her feminine power, and every day he fell further in love with her. The bonds gripped him tightly, but he never fought them. Here, with Erin, was exactly where he wanted to be.

She knelt between his legs. He brushed the hair back from her face, enjoying the silvery play of sunlight on the crown of her head. Her position was sensual, but when he looked down at her, the emotions he felt far surpassed the physical. Her position was submissive, but he was the one at her mercy.

With a wicked tilt of her lips, she fisted his cock and brought him to the brink, pump after groan-inducing pump. Just when he was sure he’d blow, she stopped, leaving him on the knife-thin edge of pleasure and aching need. Her hand remained still, holding him up as she leaned forward.

Her lips pressed the slippery head in a chaste kiss. The velvety caress made his hips cant forward. He sighed in helpless denial. She was killing him, slaying him, and he wouldn’t have stopped her for anything. Her tongue darted out, sending molten pleasure to his balls. She sucked him in shallowly, holding the head in her mouth and sucking hard. He swore every crude, vulgar word he’d ever heard in the military, his fingers white-knuckled on the edge of the stool.

She glanced up at him. The sultry knowledge in her eyes mesmerized him. His veined shaft disappeared between her stretched, pink lips. He wanted so many things. To make her take him deeper. To hold her head. To own her. But his love for her wrapped around him like butter-soft chains, holding him back and keeping her safe.

A new, subtle pressure had him clenching and rising up to meet her mouth. She’d worked a finger down below where he couldn’t see—but Jesus, he could feel. Sparks down the seam of his balls and up underneath. How could she bear to touch him there? He wanted to make her stop, to force her to rub him there faster and harder. The barstool may as well have been glued to his palms. He couldn’t move them. Couldn’t stop her, couldn’t make her do a damn thing. This was all her: wicked intent and lavish attention.

Slowly, her finger slid back farther, to the waiting pucker of his ass. His whole body strung up tight. He clenched his jaw to keep from crying out no and stop and God fuck yes. Flames licked his balls, and he rocked in a rhythmic motion, desperate for relief.

As her finger explored forbidden territory, her eyes held a question. Do you like this? And they held something else, her answer. She liked this, and he was filled with gratitude. Flushed with pleasure. He would probably go up in smoke any second now, but God, the burn felt so sweet.

Circles.

The thought pierced his lustful haze. She was making circles right there with the tip of her finger. He followed the sensation of tiny spirals at his most vulnerable point. She sucked him in deep, making his eyes roll back. Her grip at the base of his cock tightened and then slid along the shaft. Her finger at his back entrance pressed inside. The smallest degree of entry, and he was lost. Climax swept over and consumed him. He shouted something broken and base while he poured his orgasm on her tongue. Shudders wracked his body as he stared down at her. His entire body clenched tight with pleasure before relaxing in sweet contentment. She lovingly licked the last traces of seed from his cock.

Finally releasing himself, he unclenched his fingers from the stool. One hand shoved into her hair and gently pulled her to him. He kissed her with an open mouth and greedy tongue, tasting himself inside her. His body

was sated, but not his desires. He had wanted to taste her, and judging from the way she shivered in his grip, she wanted that too.

Feeling wild and desperate, he glanced around the kitchen. Through the open-air entranceway, he saw the armchair in the living room. Not a very comfortable piece, but the padding would protect her. He wanted to make her come so hard her liquid spilled onto the cushion. He felt feral, wanting to mark the furniture with her scent, her sex.

“Follow me.” Feeling grim and unkind, he pulled her over and sat her down. A little more roughly than he needed to, but it set the tone. She needed to understand. This was how it would be, him leading and her placid. It was the only way he could worship her properly, because if she spoke a single word, he’d obey.

He spread her legs, placing them over each padded arm of the chair. It was bondage without a foot of rope. The more he pleasured her, the tighter her legs would bind her here. Of course, she could always relax and stand up herself, but she wouldn’t. The dark amusement in her eyes said she understood the game, she accepted it. Her parted lips and quickened breath said she didn’t give a damn, as long as he gave her what she needed.

The folds of her sex glistened in the faint light. He speared his fingers through the moisture, relishing the slickness. So lovely. And his, all his. He dipped into the wet heat. His cock stirred again, ready to take its rightful place. No. Not this time. He quested farther north, to the place where softness bundled together, where gentle pleasure tightened into nerves. He stroked her clit, and she shuddered.

“Blake.”

She sounded lost and beautiful. What was he doing to her? Should he stop? Leave her alone? He couldn’t.

“Stay quiet,” he said. “Keep your hands on the chair. If you speak or move, I’ll stop.”

He leaned forward to breathe in the earthy, sweet scent of her. Fuck, he went crazy for this. The first taste had him rock hard. The second made him groan with fevered longing. Her sex was plump and swollen, slippery against his lips. He found the well of arousal with his tongue, drawing out more liquid and drinking it down.

The familiar musk of her transported him to another world, where time could never intrude. He had an eternity to lap her folds and suckle her clit. He lashed her with his tongue, pulling stuttered breaths and harsh inhalations, but she was so good. So obedient. She remained almost silent, almost still.

He glanced up and lost a heartbeat at what he saw. Her unfocused eyes had glazed with unshed tears. Her parted lips trembled. He had meant to draw this out, to make her wait and maybe return the favor by exploring the tight pucker beneath. But he couldn’t stand to see her in this kind of sexual agony.

Pressing two fingers inside, he found the roughened spot that made her buck. His lips closed around her clit, sucking her hard. Her whole body grew taut. Her hips bucked against his face. The sensual violence grew too hard, too much, until he skated his free hand, still damp from her juices, along the tender insides of her thighs, a feathery caress to push her over.

She cried out her release as wetness flowed over his lips and down his chin, coating the chair just like he’d imagined. He helped her back down with slight licks and soft kisses. When her body slumped against the back of the chair, he picked her up and held her until the trembling subsided.

Her breathing evened out, and for a minute he thought she’d fallen asleep. Her voice sounded drugged when she spoke, slurred and breathy. “Did I pass?”

It took him a minute to connect the dots to their teacher-student fantasy at the start. “Very much so, sweetheart. You are my best student.”

She huffed a laugh. “I better be your only student when it comes to oral examinations.”


Tags: Skye Warren Beauty Erotic
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