Selling Her Virtue - Page 17

I ease the flap of fabric covering his fly back, listening, watching his chest rise and fall as a low rumble catches in his throat.

Keeping my eyes on his, I lower his zipper, tooth by tooth, and then slide my fingers in, tugging his veined dick from his pants and boxers with a pop.

I groan as I touch it. It’s beautiful. And huge. As thick as a Red Bull can and reaching absurdly high beyond his belt buckle.

“How’d you keep this monster corralled in there?” I chirp out. The question not entirely rhetorical.

He growls as I sweep my fingers up and down the silky skin. He grips one of his muscular thighs with his hand, leaning his head back like he’s entered nirvana.

As his fingers dig into his leg, the veins in his hand and forearm pop outward. And somehow, even more than before, his arms turn me into a hot mess.

So much power. So much man.

“The deal was that if you win, you can take me. Or not. But I never said anything about taking you.”

“Fuck baby.” he rumbles, all guttural and aggressive. “Your fingers are like silk. So fucking gentle.”

“Too gentle?” I ask, gripping him tighter.

He doesn’t answer out loud. But instead grinds his teeth a little, studying me with such intensity I feel like I’m about to be interrogated under a hot, white light.

“How many cocks have you touched?”

“Uhh—uh…” I stammer. Do I tell the truth? Would he be more upset by my lack of experience or if I said I’d touched a few man poles before? I run my thumb up the pulsing shaft, tracing the tight, engorged skin on the head. I’m mesmerized by its texture, almost forgetting his question.

Almost.

“How many?” he barks, the set of his jaw hard, the scar through his eyebrow twisting as his forehead furrows.

“None,” I mumble. “Is that bad? I have no clue what I’m doing. I’m sure I’m not going to be worth the money you paid. I have zero skill in this department.”

He growls again. “That’s good. And saves me some trouble.”

“Trouble?” I continue working the skin up and down, wondering what he means, but less and less interested in his answer as the seconds tick by.

“Saves me the trouble of finding out who else you touched and making them forget it ever happened. Whatever that might take.”

My insides twist and I know I should be scared of a man that wants to hurt someone I might have touched before him, but instead of my feminist rage rising to the surface, my nipples tighten and my core flutters. I’m a pile of submissive Jello with this man and I’m utterly unashamed.

“I wasn’t going to let you do this,” he grunts. He leans his head back again, the ridge of his Adam’s apple catching the firelight. His thick stubble. The line of his jaw. Every inch of him is almost god-like. Right out of my dreams. “But fuck…I need it.”

“You need it?” My heart feels like it’s lodged in my throat. “Like, it’s been a while and you need to get off?”

A flood of disappointment chills me.

He just needs to get off.

He’s horny.

I had this delusion I was special somehow, but honestly that makes no sense. He’s a rich guy at a virgin auction. What was I thinking?

His hand darts out, and I gasp when he grips my chin so hard my lips squeeze together.

“I don’t just need to get off, little girl.” His fingertips dig in as a little yelp sticks in my throat. “I can beat off if I need relief. But, those days are behind me. I’ll never need to do that again. That’s going to be your job from now on.”

What? What is he saying?

I don’t have time to care right now. I want what I want and right now, I want to please him. I want to hear him make those desperate, choking sounds like I’m giving him something he’s needed and never been able to find.

Me.

I want him only to want it from me.

I lower my head down and close my eyes as I take him in my mouth, sliding my tongue down his ridge as I take him to the back of my throat in one deep draw.

He’s nearly nestled up against my esophagus. My gag reflex kicks in, but I conquer it before it can take hold.

I ease him in and out.

In and out.

The masculine flavor of his skin is a balm to my momentary doubt, because he tastes like coming home.

Coming.

Ha.

I hear his curse words, his grunting moans, and I listen, moving with the sounds of encouragement.

A minute later, his cock is halfway down my throat. He brushes my hair from my face, getting a clear view of his dick in my mouth.

He’s loving it. He gets harder with every lick and twirl of my tongue.

Tags: Dani Wyatt Erotic
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