Tempted by a Dangerous Man by Cleo Peitsche Read Free Book Online Page A

overstimulated frenzy.
    The only problem was that when I got excited, I stopped paying attention to my breathing, my sucking. I gagged, hard, my hips and knees squeezing in as I tried to curl up.
    Corbin gave me space to collect myself, then reclaimed his position. His free hand—the one that wasn’t monitoring me—roamed under my shirt, pried under the tight sports bra and circled my nipple. He pinched it as he licked my clit.
    He lifted his head and kissed my quivering inner thigh. “I’m going to come soon, and I want you to get off with me. I want to feel all that enthusiasm as you suck my dick, baby.” He tweaked my nipple, making me gasp, then left it alone. His hand stroked down my stomach, then his fingers were pressing inside me. Three of them this time, almost as wide around as his cock but not nearly as comfortable.
    And I loved it.
    I felt that he was about to come. It was obvious from the tensing of his muscles, the ragged, frenzied thrusts and the indelicate slapping of his tightening balls against my nose and forehead.
    The way he fucked me could have been humiliating. I could have felt used, and that would have been hot. Somewhere along the way, I’d started to think of his physical manipulation of my body as a conduit to pleasure. Most likely because whatever he did, no matter how much he hurt me—or made me beg or plead or suck his fingers while he stared impassively—and no matter how long he forced me to wait, it always ended like this…  
    White spots dotted my vision. Corbin worked my clit, swirled his tongue around it while his fingers jackhammered loudly and wetly into my tight hole. I moaned as the jerking, erratic clenching of all my muscles shook my body.
    I wasn’t able to keep sucking him the way he wanted, but he moved in deep, his cock swelled and rippled in my mouth, and I felt rather than tasted his release. I heard him grunting, too, but he didn’t stop licking me. I swallowed automatically, swallowed again.
    My choked whimper didn’t make an impression on him. He released my hand, apparently not worried that his spent cock would accidentally choke me, and took his other hand from my slick pussy. He pulled my pants and long underwear down to my ankles, pressed my legs open wide so that I was butterflied, the sides of my knees grazing the rough wood.
    His cock was still leaking saltiness into my mouth, and I swallowed it. Soft, he was much more manageable, and certainly more malleable. I cradled him in my mouth, amazed that his enormous, hard cock could turn into something so soft and silky.
    And then he swept his tongue over my clit again. I jerked, tried to pull away, but I was helpless and vulnerable under him.
    He gripped my knees tighter, an order to behave. Like I had any choice. He was too large, too strong.
    “Love the way you smell.” He licked a trail to my lower belly, then back to my pussy, and, humiliating for me, even lower, tickling my ass. I felt my face burn with shame. He caught part of my swollen sex between his teeth, nibbled, then his tongue swept deeper, licking me, tasting me. Building another orgasm while teaching me that my embarrassment didn’t alter his preferences.
    He’d done it before—gotten me off several times in a row—and I’d been shocked. This time, I knew it was possible, but it still caught me off-guard. I arched my back, the only part of me not pinned down by his hands or his hips, and moaned.
    Like before, everything went spotted, but this time it all went white. It was like an out-of-body experience. Like I’d been pulled into another dimension, then slammed back into my body.
    And heaven help me, his cock was growing in my mouth, which only served to excite me more. He really did love this. And even if he didn’t love me, he loved sex with me. It was more than I deserved, and more than I ever would have dared hope for.
    I came again, shuddering, moaning, my hands digging into his shirt, trying to grab onto the rock-hard body