Dominating Jess: A Fantasy Fulfilled Novella by Rachel Nixx Read Free Book Online

wanted him to come.
I wanted him to be as far down my throat as he could be, cutting off my oxygen,
when he came. I’d hold my breath, I would let him shoot. I wouldn’t even need
to swallow, he’d be so far down me. My hips rocked as I deep-throated him,
frantically trying to rub my clit on the front of my g-string.
    Then he pulled out. I
sucked in a deep breath. Would he come on my face? Hit my breasts with his
load? God, I’d never wanted a man to do that so much. I’d never needed it like I did now. I let myself feel the desire as I moaned low in my throat.
    “Stop,” Jake said.
    I didn’t even know
what he wanted me to stop doing. I was doing nothing but waiting, lip bitten,
and rocking my lower body...
    “You will not come. Until I make you, you’re forbidden to come.”
    I froze, heat rising
through my body from my center. I could wait. I would wait until he came...
    But he was putting his
cock away. Still rock hard, still glistening wet, gleaming from my mouth, he
tucked himself into his pants as if he’d been working out and was just putting
away the dumbbell. Like it didn’t matter.
    Jesus, it mattered. To
me, it mattered. I wanted to feel him, hot against me. “Please... Can you...?”
    A dangerous stillness.
He put one finger below my chin and lifted, as if he could make me stand just
by pulling me from my jaw. And, it turned out, he could. I stood, waiting for
him to lift   my hands over the hook
and leave me there again for the room to stare at. But instead, he took several
steps away, hooking the lower leg of a chair with his foot and swinging it back
to me. He put it front of me, the back of the chair closest to my knees.
Without ceremony, as everyone watched, with one hand at my hip and the other at
the nape of my neck, he bent me over the top of the chair. He placed my hands
flat on the seat and growled in my ear, “Don’t you dare move your hands from
that position.”
    I wouldn’t. I
couldn’t.
    He pushed the chair
forward a few inches. I stretched, bending more at the waist, making sure I
kept my still-hobbled feet together. My ass was in the air, and I thanked God
at least I still had my scrap of panties covering me. At least I could pretend
I had clothes on.
    Jake stood in front of
me. My eyes were at his knee level, but I couldn’t help glancing up at his
still evident bulge. Would he push himself into my mouth in this position? I
couldn’t rock my hips, not the way they were being held up by the back of the
chair, so I couldn’t trick him and get off—not that I would, anyway. The
tone of his voice had scared me. But even if I couldn’t do that, I longed to
take him again down my throat.
    But instead, Jake took
a knife from a tray the concierge presented to him. A switchblade, with a dark
wooden handle. My mother used to keep one of those in her kitchen drawer. She’d
said it had been my father’s, and that she’d use it for protection if anyone
ever broke into our house. But the only men that came in our house were men she
invited, and I only ever saw her use the knife for opening boxes she got in the
mail from QVC.
    Jake snapped it open.
My heart froze just like it had when he’d used the knife in the square. But
we’d said on the plane no blood, and he hadn’t broken his word earlier. If he
did break his word, all bets were off. I didn’t know how I’d get out of here,
but I would. Maybe that woman who’d met my eyes earlier would... I bit my lip
and glanced to the right. She was watching, all right, but her eyes gleamed,
her own cheeks flushed. She’d be no help.
    As he drew the silver
blade, small and sharp-looking, to my cheek, my breathing started to judder as
if I’d been running for hours. Pressing gently, he scraped the tip of the knife
down to my jawline, and then traced me, as if I were lying on butcher paper on
the ground and he was drawing my silhouette with a pencil. The metal slid, cool
and terrifying, down my neck, over my shoulder, down the length of