Don’t Tease Me (Made Men #1) Read Online Renee Rose

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Crime, Dark, Erotic, Mafia Tags Authors: Series: Made Men Series by Renee Rose
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Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 60700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
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I gasp, clawing at his arms at the brief pain he inflicted before he returns to pleasuring me. My internal muscles squeeze and clench. He moves so fast and with such confidence, he overwhelms my senses, and I melt into his touch. He strokes one hand down my belly, slipping inside the front of my panties where he brushes a finger across my dripping pussy. The shock of touch on my most sensitive parts makes me moan.

“Someone’s wet,” he murmurs approvingly, the deep rich tones of his voice reverberating through every sinew of my body. He yanks my panties down then pushes me back onto the bed. Hoisting my legs into the air, he holds my ankles with one hand and gives my ass a slap.

I gasp in surprise, squirming against the grip he already loosed to unbuckle his belt and kick off his pants and boxer briefs. I stare when he pulls off his shirt to reveal a broad, muscled chest dusted with dark curls. My eyes slide lower, where his cock juts out proudly, his erection impressive. I lick my lips, my heart skittering. No wonder he has confidence in his bedroom performance.

Despite the fact that he already knows I’m wet, he pushes my legs wide and settles between them, licking into me. I cry out at the contact, then go cross-eyed with pleasure because the man has zero trouble finding his way around my clit. He circles it with his tongue, flicks it, and somehow even manages to suck it between his lips. He rubs it with his thumb while he pushes into me with two other fingers. When he finds my G-spot and pumps against it, I screech with a surprise orgasm. My internal muscles clench around his fingers, and I squirt a little, which would’ve embarrassed me, except he chuckles. “That’s it, doll.”

He eases his fingers out and climbs off the bed. “You don’t usually orgasm with a partner, or you don’t orgasm during intercourse?” When he reappears, he has a condom in hand, which he rips open with his teeth.

“Neither…both.” My brain cells are too occupied with my pleasure centers to know how to answer the question.

“I’d say the problem was with your partner.” He kneels on the bed and sheaths his length. “Put those sexy heels over my shoulders.”

It’s bossy, but I don’t take offense. In fact, I love how he knows exactly what he wants and asks for it. It makes it easy for me to just be present. I lift my legs in the air, careful not to kick him in the face.

He wastes no time in lining his cock up with my entrance and pushing in. He’s thick and long, filling me. Stretching me. When he grips the front of my thighs to yank my ass against him, thrusting into the hilt, I cry out at the unexpected pleasure.

He stays in deep to let me adjust, groaning his own satisfaction. “You okay, doll?”

“So good,” I manage to pant.

He withdraws and repeats the action, his loins slapping against my ass. He picks up speed. “Yeah, I knew you’d be a hot fuck.” His dirty talk revs my engine, the deep rumble turning my insides to liquid heat. “You’re a perfect, sexy, willing little fuck doll, aren’t you?”

I can’t answer, not that I think he expects me to. I suddenly find myself not just wanting and willing but rather desperate to be exactly that–his willing little fuck doll. To have this man as my boss in bed. My sugar daddy. Not for the money. For this.

The pleasure. The sense of surrender to someone who knows exactly what he’s doing. How he wants it. How to make it good for me. His rough domination stokes my internal fire hotter.

I swear the entire room has caught fire. I’ve never felt so abandoned. So willingly out of control. It’s a hard fuck–aggressive, pounding–and yet my body opens like a flower to him, not just willing to give whatever he demands but deriving intense pleasure from those demands.

Orgasming with him seems to be a non-issue. I’m already close to a second one, about to break, when he pulls out. “Flip over,” he commands gruffly.

I laugh softly, not used to being ordered around during sex. I had no idea it would be such a turn-on. My role here is a sexual servant–which is somehow freeing. All the repression I’ve had in the past, the performance anxiety about doing it right, or whether I look good naked, or whatever the stupid thoughts going around in my head were–they’re all gone.

Bobby’s in charge. All I have to do is surrender to him.

Still, I lodge my complaint. “I was just about to come.”

“I know.”

Cocky bastard. The two simple words shoot me into a dizzying state of lust. He knew. He guaranteed my satisfaction back at the club, and despite what seemed like a self-centered encounter, he is paying attention. My limbs tremble as I turn around, climbing further up the bed to lie on my belly. He grabs my thighs and yanks me back toward him, my feet finding the floor in a spread eagle, my ass presented to him. A cry of need erupts as he feeds his hard cock into my slick channel and pumps. When he grasps both my shoulders to brace me for his pounding, I lose control. “Oh, God, oh yes, please!” I sob into the bedcovers.


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