but not rough. Usually, nothing short of being called a cheap
cunt and getting ass-fucked without lubricant makes me this aroused. Already I
can feel the wetness from my pussy slicking my shaved mound and my thighs. I
bite my lip at the thought of how wet Ian’s hand must be as he fingers me.
“You are so ready to be
fucked, Red,” he murmurs, his fingers grazing my G-spot, then slipping away,
then teasing it again. My moan sounds more like a sob, and I’m clutching the
throw pillow underneath me in a white-knuckle grip. “So now you’ve got to make
a decision. Your date is going to be here in a few minutes. Yet here you are
bent over for me with my fingers in your pussy and my cock pressed against your
ass. Do you want me to let you up, so you can leave with him? Or do you want to
spend the rest of the night here with me making up for your poor behavior over
dinner?”
I arch, nudging and rubbing
my ass against the bulge in Ian’s pants. “I want to stay and make it up to
you,” I say in a small voice, unsure and unsteady. In truth, I’m terrified, and
excited, and desperate for his reassurance.
“You need to be sure about
that, Red. I’m going to push you hard, and you’re going to have to make all
this time I’ve spent waiting for you to grow the hell up worth it to me. Are
you ready for that?”
AN
EXCERPT FROM ERIKA MASTEN’S
DOMINATED BY BROTHERS: HOT HARD
MENAGE #1
At last, I turn the final
page in the folder, struggling to swallow and gather a calming breath. My chest and throat don’t want to
cooperate. “That’s it. Those are all the details we need to settle
today.”
“Good,” he says in a deep
groan and moves to action. One hand tugs
my hair and my face back for another possessive, plundering kiss. The other finds my knees, pressed hard together
to quell the quivering in my pussy. Garret draws back from feasting on my mouth just enough to breathe,
“Spread your legs for me, Faith.”
My mind wants me to shriek in
denial—not here, not so soon—but my body responds unconditionally. I part my legs, and
Garret’s hand skims along my inner thigh, until his fingertips find my wet
panties and begin to trace the plump lips of my slit through the silk. My hands are squeezing the padded arms of the
chair, my knuckles turning white. Deep
inside me, my cunt throbs, demanding to be filled. I want to pump my hips. His lips hover over mine, retreating by
fractions of an inch as I arch to meet him, like we are bound to one another by
breath.
Garret’s fingers pet my
silk-clad slit in long, slow strokes as I sit at attention, reaching for his mouth
with mine. “Four months,” he whispers in
the quiet room, though my heartbeat is pounding loudly in my head. “Four long months trying to
figure out what I’m going to do with you, Faith.”
“What you’re going to do with
me?” I ask, searching his eyes.
“A
romantic dinner, the symphony, all night seducing you.” Garret nibbles at my lips and my jaw as he
outlines his list. Under my skirt, his
fingers curl around the damp crotch of my panties, ready to jerk them down my
legs. I whimper, part of me wanting him
to rip my panties off. “Or give in to
the urge to take you before you can think about it, make you mine before you
can get scared.” A soft growl tinges his
voice. “Make sure you never want to
leave my bed.”
My cunt tightens in
answer. It wants the latter, and it
wants it now. I want… I want to be Garret’s, the woman at his side
at dinners and benefits, the lover he kisses hard in the dark, his personal
slut when his cock is stiff and ready.
“Tell me what you want,
Faith,” he mutters low, as though he can read my thoughts. “It can be slow and sweet.” He pulls my hair and ravishes my neck for too
short a moment. “Or it can be now, and
you’ll be mine, on my terms.”
Why does the way he says this
make me shiver and moan?