Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
It’s all around me, filling my nostrils, filling my fucking mind.
“Who told you to wear panties?” I demand.
“What? I thought—”
“I specifically gave instructions for the dress and nothing else.”
“I didn’t put on a bra…” She falls silent as I glare, understanding finally that when I give instructions, they are to be followed to the letter. No room for negotiation.
“Pull your panties to the side and find your clit with these two fingers.” I hold my index and middle fingers up, showing her what I want.
“No.” Her cheeks flush, and she looks down, and rage floods through me.
I grip her chin, forcing her to meet my eyes. “Do you think you have any choice, Larissa? Do you think that’s what this is? A negotiation?”
For the briefest instant, she hesitates. Then she scowls, but her fingers hook into the elastic of her panties and pull them aside, revealing a sight that will live with me to the end of my days.
Which, with the way my heart is hammering in my chest, might not be much longer.
I watch her fingertips glide over the sensitive outer lips, glistening under the overhead lights. There’s a hint of curls there, natural but barely enough to dapple the outer lips.
“Good girl,” I tell her and see the pleasure spread over her features. Then I pick up another piece of bread and push it into her mouth. "Rub your clit in a slow circle and chew."
“Pervert,” she snaps, but her lips stay open, her fingers continue moving, and Dear God, I nearly bust my nut in my pants.
Christ, those eyes.
They are only dimmed slightly by the intoxicating sight of her pussy. I bite back a groan as she blinks, her lids falling slightly as she swallows the bread, the softest of wet sounds coming up from between her legs.
“From now on, you will associate the pleasure of eating well with the pleasure of touching yourself,” I tell her, watching her delicate fingers move between her outer lips. “When you eat, you will think of me, Larissa, you will feel pleasure, and you will remind yourself to follow every instruction Daddy gives you.”
I feed her another bite, but it’s not enough.
“Spread your legs wider,” I order.
“No.”
“Do it, or I’ll have my staff come in and do it for you.”
She shakes her head as I slice off a small sliver of fig and push it into her mouth.
“You won’t be in charge here. Now do it.”
She wiggles, and I swallow down the urge to apologize for my demands. When her knees widen, her heels hook on the lower rungs of the chair, and she spreads that masterpiece for me, my balls drawing up so tight I feel them in my throat.
“Larissa, you are a masterpiece.”
“No wonder you have to be here on this island. Back home, you’d be serving a life sentence for being a sexual predator, for sure.”
“Your body must disagree, because the sound of the waves out the window isn’t nearly as wet as the sound of you playing in that messy little truth-teller between your thighs.”
I’m hard as nails as she opens her mouth willingly, the movement of her fingers becoming more frantic.
“You like being ordered around by Daddy.”
I trail my knuckles down her throat, feeding her another bite of fruit with my other hand. There’s sweat gathering at the base of my spine.
Every time my fingers touch her lips, my dick gets harder—didn't think that was possible, but here we are.
She gasps, her arousal taking root. The small sound punches me straight in the chest. The straps of the dress wiggle down her shoulders, exposing more of that creamy flesh that makes my fingers twitch.
“Are you going to hurt me?” Her voice quivers, and I think of jumping off the balcony into the surf for making her afraid.
“No. Never.” I pause. “Do you believe me?”
She nods, and
I work the straps down her arms until those juicy little nipples are on full display like two lush strawberries on a circle of angel food cake.
“You’re stunning.” I exhale, unable to continue breathing. Jesus. My palm is on her nipple, and she starts to moan as she moves her fingers faster, faster.
I trail my fingers down the center of her body, the white dress straps hanging on the crooks of her arms, the hem bunched at her hips as I reach out and do something I’ve never done.
“I’m going to help you orgasm. Food, pleasure, the association needs to be solid.” I feed her another scrap of bread, her soft breathing and sweet scent working on me like a drug.
“Daddy, please...” she whispers as I work my fingers toward that heavenly slip of pink and press my middle finger into the wet warmth.
“So wet. It’s working.”
The rim of her barrier is right there. Getting my middle finger inside her an inch is a struggle, but she arches just a hint, her throat working around a swallow, her fingers rasping back and forth, pressing that bundle of nerves faster and harder against the bone underneath.