Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
His body presses against my back.
I feel the heat of him through the thin layer of air between us.
His cock—thick and hard—presses against my hip through what feels like fabric. He's not naked like I am.
One hand leaves my breast and slides down my stomach. Lower. His fingers find my pussy and push inside me without hesitation. Two fingers. Maybe three. I can't tell. I'm so wet he encounters no resistance.
"Good girl," he murmurs against my ear. "You waited."
His voice.
It's him.
Relief floods through me so intensely my knees would buckle if the restraints weren't holding me upright.
My unmasked man
He's here.
His fingers curl inside me, finding that spot that makes my vision blur. His thumb finds my clit and begins circling it with exactly the right pressure. Not too hard. Not too soft.
Perfect.
Like he's memorized my body's responses.
Like he knows exactly how to make me fall apart.
"Please," I whisper.
"Please what?"
His fingers still. His thumb stops moving.
I make a desperate sound that's half sob, half moan.
"Please let me come. Please. I've been good. I did everything you told me to do. I crossed the plank. I took the zip line. I let them strap me here. I waited. Please."
The unmasked man steps around the cross and positions himself directly in front of me.
His face fills my vision. Those stunning eyes—dark, and deep, and focused with an intensity that makes my stomach flip—lock onto mine like I'm the only thing in the world worth looking at.
His jaw is sharp, covered in a shadow of stubble that I want to feel scraping against my inner thighs.
His lips are full, slightly parted, and as I watch them, they slowly curve into a smile that sends heat pooling between my legs.
God, he's beautiful.
I want to reach up and touch him. I want to trace the line of his cheekbone, run my fingers through his hair, pull his mouth down to mine.
But I can't.
The restraints hold me in place, spread open and helpless, unable to do anything but stare back at him while my body screams for contact.
"Are you dying for my cock, my pretty little slut?"
His voice is low and rough and it slides through me like warm honey.
I start nodding before I can think, the metal collar biting into my throat with the movement. The pressure makes me gasp, but I don't stop.
"Yes, Master. Yes, Master, please. Let me have it. Give it to me."
His smile widens.
He doesn't give it to me.
Instead, he reaches out and traces one finger down the center of my chest, between my breasts, over my stomach, stopping just above my pussy. His touch is featherlight. Barely there. Enough to make every nerve ending in my body light up with desperate need but nowhere near enough to satisfy anything.
"Tell me how much you want it."
"So much," I breathe. "So much, Master. I've been thinking about it since the platform. Since you kissed me on the plank. I can't stop thinking about how you felt pressed against me, how hard you were, how badly I wanted you inside me right then."
"What would you do for it?"
"Anything." The word comes out without hesitation. "Anything you want. Whatever you tell me to do. I'll be good. I'll be so good for you."
His finger traces lazy circles on my lower stomach. Each pass brings him closer to where I need him, but he never quite arrives.
"You were good on the zip line," he says. "I watched you. Watched you conquer your fear. Watched you trust me enough to jump."
"I trusted you."
"I know." He leans closer, his breath warm against my ear. "I also watched you get wet listening to those voices describe what they wanted to do to you. Watched your pretty little pussy drip while they talked about fucking your throat and fisting your cunt."
My face burns.
"Did you like that?" His tongue traces the shell of my ear. "Did you like knowing they were watching you? Wanting you?"
"Yes," I whisper.
"Louder."
"Yes, Master. I liked it."
"You liked strange men looking at your naked body."
"Yes."
"You liked hearing them describe how they'd use you."
"Yes, Master."
"Would you let them?" His hand cups my breast, thumb brushing over my nipple. "If I gave permission? If I told you to spread your legs and let all three of them take turns?"
My pussy clenches hard enough that I feel it pulse.
"If you—if you wanted me to," I manage. "If it would please you."
"Such a good answer." He pinches my nipple, rolling it between his fingers until I cry out. "Such a perfect, obedient little slut."
He steps back.
I make a sound of protest that I'm immediately ashamed of—a desperate, needy whine that belongs to someone with no pride left.
But he just watches me with that knowing smile as his hands move to the buttons of his shirt.
He undoes them slowly. Deliberately. Making me watch each one reveal more of the chest beneath. The fabric parts to show tanned skin, defined muscle, and then—