The Dollhouse by Stacia Stone Read Free Book Online

for embarrassment.
    His tongue moved lower, dipping into me before moving on. He pushed thick fingers inside of me just as his lips closed over my clitoris, sucking hard.
    With that, I dissolved. Keening moans transformed into inarticulate cries of pleasure. The orgasm rolled over me like a steaming train and I melted like candy into the heat of his mouth.

    * * *
    I woke some time later , cradled in his arms. He reclined on the bed, propped up against the headboard, and had taken the comforter from the bed and settled it around me. The top of my head was tucked underneath his chin as I rested against his chest.
    He must have felt me stir because his chest rumbled against my cheek as he spoke.
    “Welcome back.”
    I was terrified to do or say something that would break the spell, so instead I burrowed deeper against him. My cheek rested against the small patch of bare skin where the top of his shirt was unbuttoned.
    “It might be a little late for the vapors, pet.”
    He gripped my chin and tilted my face up so I was forced to meet his eyes. His face was heartbreakingly beautiful in a way that was almost too much to bear. Forest green eyes, so deep that it felt like I would fall into them, stared back at me.
    “Tell me about your dreams.”
    A fiery blush crept up my cheeks and he chuckled darkly.
    “Tell me, Dalea.”
    “You had me b-bound at my arms and legs.” I swallowed hard. “Sir.”
    He rolled me off his lap and moved over my unresisting body in a quick moment. Taking both my wrists in one large hand, he raised them over my head and pressed them against the headboard. One of his legs moved up to cover both of mine, immobilizing them. I was effectively trapped between the vice-like grip and the weight of his body.
    “Like this?”
    I took a stuttering breath. “Yes, sir.”
    “Was that all?”
    His face hovered over mine, our noses barely touching. The heaviness of his body crushed me down into the mattress and made it difficult to take more than the most shallow of gasps.
    I felt his breath — hot and wet against my skin — as he turned to brush his lips against my cheek. The touch was so light that I hesitated to even call it a kiss.
    The hard length of his erection pressed against my thigh. Shifting slightly, I rubbed against it in a lithe movement and heard his answering groan.
    “Answer me, Dalea.”
    It was a struggle to remember what question he had asked. The lines of our bodies molded together, each curve and valley perfectly matched as if we were made to fit together. The way it felt to have him pressed against me overwhelmed my senses and robbed me of coherent thought.
    The confusion must have shown on my face. He laughed and the sound was rich and deep.
    “Describe the rest of your dream.”
    I didn’t want to say it, embarrassed by my own imagination. “You blindfolded me, sir.”
    “Did I?” His hand, the one that did not have my wrists trapped against the headboard, skimmed down the side of my body. It caught in the fabric of my dress before skimming over my bare hip. “Did you like that?”
    I gasped as his wandering fingers glided over the hot skin of my inner thigh. “Y-yes, sir.”
    “And when you awoke from your dream — dripping wet and unsatisfied — did you touch yourself?”
    “Y-yes.” My voice came on a choking sob. “Yes, sir.”
    His hand moved to the thin triangles of fabric that barely covered my breasts. The searching fingers slipped easily inside and found the hardened peak of one nipple, stroking over it in a touch so gentle that I could have imagined it.
    “Who else did you let touch you?”
    Shocks of pleasure sparkled over my senses and coalesced into a ball of heat at the center of my thighs, as his hand moved from one tight peak to another.
    “No one, sir.”
    “I’m not sure I believe you, little slut that you are.”
    Ruthless fingers pinched hard on my nipple, dragging an unwilling moan from my lips.
    “No one else has had their hands on your