Total pages in book: 20
Estimated words: 18451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 92(@200wpm)___ 74(@250wpm)___ 62(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 92(@200wpm)___ 74(@250wpm)___ 62(@300wpm)
He chuckles, and I raise a brow.
“What’s so funny, baby? You think I’m bluffing?” I ask, tightening my hand in his hair to indicate what I mean.
He must be mocking me, thinking I won’t go all the way with everything I want and plan to do to him, now that I’m holding all the control—which is to fuck him senseless. I want to make this the best Christmas he will ever have.
“I do. I don’t think you’ll be able to hold off from coming. I think you want me too much. Your cunt sure tells me how badly you are going to fail at this.” With that, I cease all movement.
“Hanna,” he challenges.
“Beg for it,” I tell him boldly.
God, this control. It makes sense now. Do I love receiving his? Yes. That always made sense. But being the one in control? That awakens something new in me, a fire burning from deep inside me and bubbling to the surface in a wild rage.
“You naughty, evil, little—”
“Beg,” I cut him off and slam down. He groans so loud I think the snow collecting on the roof outside must fall.
“Fuck,” he rasps out.
Biting my lip, I smile wickedly. "Beg me, and I will let you use me like a cumslut. Until then, you get none of me.” I stand then and begin to undress. He eyes me with bitterness, but the underlying desire becomes more obvious. He is loving this challenge.
I undo one garter, then the other, and when they bounce and slap my skin, I moan, rubbing my thighs together, enjoying the bite.
“Baby, get back to doing what you were told.”
Ignoring him, I move to the strap at my shoulder and slowly remove it, feeling each inch of the fabric against my sensitized skin.
“Hanna,” he growls, the sound hitting me right in my core.
“God, I’m so fucking wet,” I tease, removing the other strap, then shimmying my hips as the red bodysuit falls from me.
“Fuck. Don’t you dare.”
My brows perk, and I grasp my heavy, bare breasts. Throwing my head back, I cry out as I tweak my nipples. Oh fuck, yes,” I hiss.
“Dammit, Hanna!” he yells, and I take it a step further. My bedroom eyes, filled with a vengeful type of lust, find his as my head lulls forward again, and I reach between my legs and start playing with my clit.
I see him trying his hardest to not get free from the garland. That turns me on more. He could easily break the strung pine needles, but if he does that, then I will win, and this pleasure he is seeking from me will be at his will alone. Theo wants to be at my mercy tonight. And damn does it feel so fucking incredible to be in charge of him, in control of my wildest fantasy, and right now, that is having him beg me for my body, for my pussy, for what only I can give him.
Me.
I pick up the pace, moaning and crying out like a depraved woman who has never had a passionate touch, and my eyes may be hazy, but they see him perfectly, and I know he is about to snap.
“Fuck!” I rub harder, and he can sense I'm close, knowing the telltale signs so well.
“Fuck, Hanna. Please, puppet. Please. I need you. Come back to me. Give me you,” he finally gives in, his chest rising and falling, a bead of sweat collecting on his forehead, where it meets his hairline. “Please,” he rasps out, swallowing past the dry need. His brows draw together in desperation.
“Yes, Sir.” I stop my fingers, all but crying at the loss, and step up to him slowly.
He licks his lips, looking thirsty. “Give me your fingers.”
I take the two fingers that were lost between my swollen lips seconds ago, and the moment they touch his lips, he licks at them, tasting them, sucks them in like they’re attached to a faucet and he’s just survived a drought. I get myself back into position and slowly slide down on top of him. His licking doesn’t stop on my fingers, but his eyes can’t stay focused on me, rolling to the back of his head as I become fully seated on his cock.
I start sliding up and down, circling on the down-fall, and we moan, the sensations starting at the tops of our heads and down to our toes. I love fucking Theo. Some would say I have become addicted to it. But I blame him for the addiction. I would kill for his touch; I'm that depraved from it. When he goes away for business, I ache, wake up craving it so badly I cry at times. Sex shouldn’t be that incredible, but here I am, being fucked deeply, passionately, roughly, and thoroughly nearly every night.
“Just like that. So good. Make me come. Milk me, baby,” his voice caresses my body. I keep moving, sometimes pounding down hard, but never repeatedly. I do this hoping to hold him on the edge. The frustration is building; I feel it coming from his body like a meteor’s about to strike. He’s burning for an escape, that escape being his orgasm.