Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Then caught the tip of one glove in his teeth, that bizarre little habit of his that nonetheless riveted Ash’s gaze on the erotic cruelty of his stern mouth, on the sheer sensuality of working lips as the gloves slid away from those long, elegant hands.
“Now, young Master,” Brand murmured, a husky and whispered growl, “I believe it is time that you learned a lesson.”
BRAND FORSYTHE WAS APPARENTLY A very, very bad man.
He must be, to be so very irritated that Ashton had done something so simple as pushing an elevator button for himself. And he must truly be terrible, to savor so deeply the look of wide-eyed confusion on that lovely face, blue eyes glimmering with trepidation. For all that he was no virgin, for all that he had steeped himself in worldly ways, young Master Ashton was so innocent, and it showed in his shallow breaths, in the beat of his pulse against his throat, in the touch of fear with which he regarded Brand in the silence between them.
And it should not arouse Brand so much, but it did.
The young Master would learn his place.
And perhaps, now, he would truly understand what he had ensnared himself in.
Brand finished peeling his gloves off, and dropped them into his pocket. He wanted skin to skin, for this. Ash’s gaze darted to his hands, then back to his face; he backed up another step, until his shoulders hit the wall.
“B-Brand…?”
“You did not wait,” Brand said—and caught his young Master around his slim waist, jerking him away from the wall and close against him.
Ash let out a soft cry, his back arching, for a moment struggling before he went limp against Brand, clutching at his coat, lowering his eyes in that way he had that set Brand’s blood on fire with the soft, demure downsweep of his lashes, the way his pale amber cheeks flushed against golden freckles, the glisten of his parted pink lips.
“I’m sorry,” Ash whispered. “I…I didn’t realize…”
“Exactly. You did not realize.” Brand caught Ash’s chin lightly, tracing that tempting lower lip with his thumb—then pushed Ashton away, curling his hand in the back of his suit coat to guide him, turning him swiftly around to push him face-first up against the elevator wall. “But you will learn.”
“Wh-what are y—”
Brand didn’t give Ash a chance to finish. He slipped his arms around him from behind, pulling that lithe, agile body against him, savoring the tremor that went through Ash and rolled into Brand like seismic waves. When Brand caught the tongue of the young Master’s belt buckle and drew it open, Ash sucked in a sharp breath; when Brand teased the button and zipper of his slacks open, Ash went tense.
And when Brand slipped his hand inside layers of fabric to press skin to skin, grazing his fingertips to the base of Ash’s cock…
Ash went boneless against him with a low, whimpering moan, as shocked as wide blue eyes before those eyes fluttered closed.
Brand wrapped his hand firmly around Ash’s cock. The young Master shuddered against him with shallow, gasping breaths as Brand stroked him, explored him, coaxed him to hardness and savored the feeling of hot flesh thickening, swelling, firming against his palm. Ash sagged against the elevator wall, writhing between it and Brand, hands curling helplessly against the polished steel as he cried out in low, erotic, breathless sounds that whispered as much of fear as of pleasure, as much of protest as of plea. Those were the sounds of someone confused, violated, inundated in pleasure and yet entirely distressed by it.
And they were exactly what Brand craved to hear.
“B-brand,” Ash keened softly, helpless and low. “Oh God, Brand…wh-what are you…”
“Did I not say you are to allow me to do for you?” Brand breathed against Ash’s ear, and was rewarded by a sharp tremor, a sudden surging throb of Ash’s cock against his palm, slickening with the warm liquid musk of dripping pre-come. “Did I not say you are to do as you are told?”
He tightened his grip just enough, then—just enough to make Ash rise up on his toes with a cry. “Y-yes!”
“And you did not.”
“I…I…” Ash was nearly sobbing in his harsh, gasping breaths, rolling his hips into Brand’s touch. “I’m…I’m sorry…”
“Not yet, my young Master.”
Brand brushed the fingertips of his free hand to Ash’s mouth…and Ash answered by parting his lips for him, opening for him as if blooming for him, that wet, hot mouth inviting. Brand slowly slipped his two middle fingers into Ash’s mouth, delving into that slick heat, filling his mouth in intimate mimicry of what he craved to do to his young Master’s body. Ash’s tongue fluttered helplessly against his fingers—before those soft lips closed over his flesh, parting again and again on keening gasps only to glide and suckle at Brand’s fingers, leaving them slick with the licking, caressing touch of his young Master’s tongue. Brand’s cock throbbed almost painfully, pressed against the young Master’s back, begging for relief—but this was not for him.