Venice Nights by Ava Claire Read Free Book Online Page B

my moans that poured from my open mouth.
    My knees twitched, keeping my legs apart and spread at the unnatural angle too much. Just as  they buckled, he swept me into his arms, taking me away from the mantle.
    I pouted inwardly, almost wishing I was back in front of the fireplace; legs spread wide, moments away from crumbling to the floor. Anything for more of his fingers.
    One look at him and I knew I was right where I was supposed to be—and that he had other parts of himself that he wanted to plunge inside me.
    He stopped at the couch, releasing me. My hands were still bound, and I peered at him, confused. He forced me to turn back around, pushing me down...and over the arm of the chair.
    I knew what was coming—and I just could not help myself.
    Right there—dress hanging haphazardly on my body, breathing ragged, ass in the air—I let go.
    I convulsed as wave after wave of bliss hit me. I gasped as I came down from the high of my climax, a smile on my lips...until I realized I’d broken the rule.
    “Did you enjoy that?” he spat, no smile in his voice. I had a feeling if I were not still draped over the arm of the couch I would see no smile on his face either.
    “I’m sorry,” I squeaked. Liar. You meant to push him. You want to be punished.
    “Do you enjoy disobeying me?”
    I sucked in a breath as he ran his hand up my skirt, cupping my ass.
    I knew the correct answer was no, even though I was walking, talking evidence to the contrary. I got a perverse pleasure out of pushing his buttons. I was on the edge of my seat, simultaneously thrilled and terrified at my impending punishment.
    My insides clenched hungrily, and I uttered a word that would seal my fate.
    “Yes.”
    Stunned silence filled the room after my confession. I curved my back, glancing over my shoulder to make sure he had not transported himself from the room. His eyes burned like coals. My gaze dropped to the cock he was gripping tightly, swollen with so much unreleased desire that I saw every bulging vein in beautiful clarity.
    “Turn back around,” he growled.
    I whipped back around, gripping the chair excitedly. He came up behind me, spreading my ass cheeks savagely. Every fold of me was on display, ripe for the taking...but he hovered at the entrance.
    One of his hands held me steady. He knew me well; knew that I would be tempted to thrust my body backward and pull him inside. But his hold was ironclad. He was reminding me who was in charge.
    I felt the curved end of the head of his cock drawing up and down my slit; so close but so far away. From the way his grip had trembled every few seconds before he regained control of himself, I knew the wait was as difficult for him as it was for me.
    “You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” he said hoarsely.
    The word ‘fuck’ made my body clench, so wet that I was soaked down to my bones.
    “Yes,” I groaned. I wanted him to drive into me; flesh slapping, so much pleasure shooting all over us that everything else faded to black. I wanted to forget about anything that lied outside of this room. I wanted him to pound me into the cushion; make me forget that the world outside was a different one for me—and I did not know if I belonged.
    The hand around my waist, holding me still, relaxed its binding position and joined the other at my hips. One hand on each side. The perfect position for thrusting inside me with reckless abandon .
    I held my breath, ready for him to rob me of all the air in my lungs; give me physical pain to dull the emotional pain in my heart. But there was no punch of motion as he claimed me. No slice of discomfort melting into pleasure as he beat a furious rhythm inside of me.
    He entered me slowly, forcing me to feel every second that ticked by, every inch of him that filled me wholly and completely. He turned sex into poetry. The words were our moans. The slap of our skin.
    I lost myself in his strokes, and I saw how crazy I had been. His body said the words I needed to