Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 156392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
My knees nearly fail me and my elbows give up on me. My head falls on my bodice ripper novel and my nostrils fill with the sweet scent of printed pages as Eli strokes my wetness with lazy fingers.
“So messy, Mrs. King. So fucking messy.”
“It’s your fault,” I pant when he twists my nipple and then removes his hand.
“Promise you’ll conduct yourself around the staff. You’ll act like my wife.”
“No…promise… Oh fuck.” My words die out when he slaps my pussy.
Throbbing pain mixes with pleasure and I think I come a little.
“We’ll try again. Say ‘I promise to act and dress decently.’”.”
“N-no.”
His hand comes down on my arse cheek this time and I jerk, even as a foreign rush injects itself through my veins. “Again.”
“No…”
His palm meets my pussy with a slap so hard, I reel, my cheeks about to implode from warmth, and yet my arousal looms so high, I feel an orgasm building with vicious intensity.
“Wrong answer. We can do this all night, Ava.”
“It’s still a no.”
Three consecutive slaps come on my arse and I cry out, my lips quivering and my pussy so wet, arousal drips between my thighs.
“You seem to be enjoying your punishment. Interesting.” He parts my thighs and I catch a glimpse of him kneeling behind me.
I moan when he grabs my arse cheeks, digging his fingers into the bruised skin.
And then he dives in, his tongue ravaging my swollen cunt. My nose sinks between the book’s pages, tears, snot, and drool destroying the paperback thoroughly as Eli ruins me. The scent of my arousal mingles with the musty smell of books, creating a heady and intoxicating aroma that fills the air.
His tongue is rough yet gentle, devouring my pussy with a skillful touch. The texture of the book pages scratches against my nose, adding to the overwhelming sensation. He sucks on my clit until the pressure becomes unbearably hot. White stars dance behind my eyelids as I whimper in short, choppy breaths.
“Eli… Oh fuck, please…”
He wrenches his lips from my clit. “Say that again.”
“Please…”
“My name. Say my name as you come on my face.”
He thrusts his tongue in my opening, and I shamelessly ride his face, rocking back and forth. “Eli…I’m coming, I’m coming.”
The orgasm hits me with a strength I haven’t experienced before. It’s as intense as that time in the bathroom, but it’s…more potent.
The throbbing pain in my arse mixes with the pleasure he wrenches out of me, turning it cathartic, alien even.
It’s a moment of pure, pulsating abandon, like a fire burning through every inch of my body, igniting my senses and melting my inhibitions.
I don’t think I’ll ever come down from the high, and for a while, I seem to lose all sense of my surroundings. When I’m coherent again, I’m slumped forward, the pages of the book are stuck to my cheek, and my ruined dress falls in tattered shreds around me.
Eli flips me around again like a doll and kneels over me with the aura of a deity.
I can see my juices glistening on his cut lip and that somehow injects me with a strange sense of emptiness.
Who’s the reason behind that cut?
Was he kissing some other woman behind my back?
“Ava?” he asks with his usual calmness, though two lines form on his forehead. “Can you hear me?”
I reach my bound hands to his face. “Who gave you the cut?”
Whatever concern gripped him flies away in a shroud of mist as he grabs my hands before I touch him, and although he undoes the knot, the rejection nearly obliterates me.
Gently but dispassionately, he massages the red prints his tie left on my skin, then lets my hands drop like lifeless snakes.
“It’s nothing to concern you with.”
He stands up, casts one last cryptic look at me, and then walks out of the room. Leaving me throbbing and feeling rejected with a searing sense of pain.
Eli left the house the night he shattered my world to pieces and went on a business trip to the States for a whole week.
After his swift exit from the library, the house, and my immediate vicinity, the only form of care I received was through Sam.
She found me in my bedroom with my nightgown bunched up as I stared at his angry flushed-pink handprints on my arse. So she produced some soothing gel, pills, and her usual poker face.
For the first time, I was happy for her emotionless existence because I couldn’t bear the shame that was probably written all over my face.
She also probably ate a piece of the cake as a form of compassion for all the hours I spent stupidly making him the dinner he never ate. I spilled the soup down the drain and dumped the cake in the bin as if I were burying the humiliation that tugged on every corner of my soul.