Lora Leigh - Soul Deep

Her eyes swung back to him, wide, filled with fear and heat.

“Your nipples always get hard when you’re kidnapped?” He tried to joke it away, but the tight little buds were just below his fingertips, more tempting than he could have imagined.

She was breathing harder now, her gaze distressed, her cheeks flushed as she shook her head demandingly.

“No?”

The elasticized neckline gave easily to his fingers as they smoothed over the hard curves. They were flushed too, the dark pink nipples standing hard and to attention as the fabric rasped over them.

Oh man, he was going to go to hell for this one for sure.

The elastic hooked beneath the firm mounds, lifting them higher, causing her sweet little nipples to point straight to the ceiling. The hard points were surprisingly engorged, aroused. This wasn’t fear. This was her body demanding relief.

Calling himself seven different kinds of a fool, he let his fingers trace a path to one hard little point before his thumb and forefinger gripped one of the hard berries, tugging at firmly, watching her closely.

He didn’t expect the reaction. She bucked, her body bowing as the sexual flinch convulsed her petite frame.

“Damn.” He was on fire now, almost shaking as a broken little moan tore past the gag and his head lowered.

Helpless mounting lust was riding him so hard, so fast, that he felt drugged, out of control in the face of it. His mouth opened as he covered a trembling peak, drawing it in, sucking it fiercely into his mouth as he leaned over her. His tongue curled around it as she bucked against him, lifting closer, shoving her nipple tight and hard against his tongue as he began to feast.

This wasn’t real. Amanda thrashed beneath the liquid fire of the stranger’s mouth. A stranger. Oh God, she wasn’t doing this for a stranger, straining closer, trying to shove her breast deeper into his suckling mouth while his tongue wrapped around her nipple like wet velvet.

She wasn’t moaning, desperate. Where had that fire come from? The one streaking from her nipple to her womb, convulsing her stomach in spasms of unending, agonizing arousal. And she wasn’t panting. She wasn’t.

But she was.

She screamed behind the gag, her hands curling into fists as his teeth gripped her nipple, nipping and tugging at it as a flashpoint of wet electricity sizzled between her thighs.

His lips, teeth and tongue worked the point until it was so sensitive she couldn’t think of anything but more. She needed more. Needed him sucking it in deep and hard, his teeth sending that curious blend of pleasure and pain streaking to the depths of her pussy as her clit began to swell and beg for attention.

“God, you taste good,” he muttered a second before he drew the little point in deep and hard, sucking her into his mouth as a blast of brutal sensation ripped through her.

She twisted beneath him, her hips rising as he leaned over her, desperate growling whimpers escaping the gag as his fingers began to toy with the other nipple. It wasn’t enough. Her muffled scream as her body demanded more, shocked her to her core but it didn’t ease the horrible, mindless pleasure tearing through it.

Then his fingers tugged harder, the grip becoming tighter as his teeth rasped the other point. Oh God, it hurt with a pleasure she knew would make her insane. She wanted more, needed more. Just a little bit more and the heavy, tormenting pressure just behind her clit would release, easing the liquid fire spilling from her pussy.

“Shit. You like that, don’t you?” He raised his head, his eyes narrowed on her as his fingers twisted the nipple it tormented.

She screamed for him, her head pressing back into the mattress as she fought the overwhelming cascade of brutal pleasure.

More.

She needed more.

She couldn’t stand the building pressure, the incredible sexual hunger that seemed to rise from a dark, hidden part of her soul. Hunger was like a living being, gnawing at the very depths of her pussy and sending flames to sear the throbbing bud of her clit.

More… She screamed the word behind the gag as he stared down at her.

Oh God. What was wrong with her? Had that blow to the head flipped a sexual switch she couldn’t have known existed?

What had he done to her?

He pulled at her nipples again and her gaze glazed over as she fought for breath.

Yes. Yes. Like that.

A fiery golden rush of sensation permeated her body, tingling over her flesh, electrifying her.

“Damn.” He was breathing hard too.

His black eyes were bottomless pits of aroused lust, his dark cheekbones flushed, his lips pulled into a tight line of control as she writhed beneath the pressure.

“What do you want, baby?” he whispered then, a wicked sexuality suffusing his expression, giving him a dangerous, dark look.

She arched to him, gasping as his fingers tugged at her nipples again. She wanted his mouth there again. Wanted to feel his lips and teeth tugging at them, drawing on her, making those little streaks of pleasure pain tighten in her womb.

She wanted to know his name.

His head lowered again, and she didn’t give a damn what his name was. His mouth was fiery, his tongue an instrument of torture as it rasped and lashed at the peaked flesh and sent her senses careening with pleasure.

Then his teeth nipped at it, sending fiery shards of painful pleasure exploding into her womb.

Her head twisted on the bed, her arms and legs straining against the restraints, her clit was a tortured mass of nerves so in need of relief that all she could think about was the building ache.

“Son of a bitch.” He was breathing hard and rough as his head raised, his tongue licking over his already damp lips as the cool air of the room peaked her nipples further.

Please. She wanted to scream the word.

“Damn.” He untied the gag quickly, but before she could beg, his lips were covering hers again, his tongue forging into her mouth.

That taste. Honey and spice. Her tongue twined with his, her lips snuggled around it as she sucked it into her mouth, feeling the taste intensify as his hands gripped her head, holding her to him, using his tongue to fuck her mouth with hot, possessive strokes.

His shirt rasped her nipples as he leaned over her, touching her nowhere else, making her crazy for more. She needed more. She whimpered against the need, thrashing against the bed as desperate mewling moans tore from her throat.

When he raised his head, she stared up at him imploringly.

“Make it stop,” she gasped. “Please make it stop.”

“What?” He was panting as he watched her, his gaze centered on her lips. “Make what stop?”

She whimpered. Why did he want to torture her? What had she done to him?

“Please,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes as her clit bloomed into a fiery knot of agony. “It hurts. Make it stop hurting.”

He shook his head as though confused. “What hurts?”

Didn’t he know? He had turned her into a mass of hunger so intense she was dying with it.

“Damn you,” she cursed him bitterly, arching to him, rubbing her breasts into his chest, moaning at the sensation. “You know what I mean. Make it stop now, I can’t stand it.”

His hand moved from her head, flattening on her waist before smoothing to her thigh. She stilled, her lips parting as she gasped for air, her gaze locked with his as he began to draw the loose skirt of her dress up her legs.

Yes.

Cool air whispered over the stockings she wore, easing the brutal heat for just a second before it returned full force. She twisted as it cleared her knees, arched as the fabric slid over her thighs.

She would have screamed when his fingers grazed the crotch of her panties if his lips hadn’t covered hers again, his tongue pumping into her mouth as he suddenly ripped the panties, miniscule as they were, from her writhing body.