Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Withstanding the first and second circling motion is easy. Hell, even the third and fourth can be survived through, yet the moment his tongue takes its first forceful dive inside, there’s no stopping me from lunging over the orgasmic cliff I’m so tired of tiptoeing beside. Wet, rapid pulses hostilely overthrow my pussy and eventually, my entire quivering body. I struggle to stay upright, to keep my balance, my mind from melting into nothing but mush, only to lose all of the battles when his tongue glides inside my pulsating pussy. Coming again is instant, and the instantaneousness of it, irks me to no end.
That shouldn’t be fucking possible.
There’s no way he should have more control over my orgasms than me.
Carnal outrage pushes me to reach one hand around to pull him away; however, once his platinum littered locks are in my possession, the only thing I can fathom doing is yanking him closer.
Encourage him to bury his tongue deeper.
Let me ride it faster.
Bucking motions brainlessly begin in tandem with my tugging. Ptur’s tongue stretches forward so that tip can cover and curl around my clit, applying to it the back breaking pressure I’m craving. I grind, and he winds. I rock, and he dives. I whimper and pull for control, to move him where I want him, and he fights.
Forces me to take the slippery thrusts being given.
Endure the rapid brushes of my sensitive little nub until I’m matching his rhythm.
Caving to his pace.
Coming undone on cries of his name, “Ptur!”
The beastlike roars that rip through him shake us both, adding unneeded but delectable vibrations to the euphoric spiral I’m willingly losing my soul in. Every ounce of energy I have is thoroughly drained from my limbs causing me to collapse into a withering, whimpering pile on top of the very face responsible for the depletion.
Loving nips and licks precede being gently placed on the elevator floor beside my now unwearable pants.
The being I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to be fated to affectionally drags a finger the length of my throat on a cooed, “I’m getting you a peppermint, mate.”
“Lime.”
Being given a specific instruction has the platinum glow in his eyes deepening.
He gave me something I needed.
Only fair to do the same.
Right?
When there’s no answer from the internal voice, I ask again.
Right?!
Fear that I’ve somehow managed to murder my ancient warrior sweeps over me prompting Ptur to curl his hand warmly around my throat and state, “She’s resting, Fated Mate. Let her rest.”
I thoughtlessly nuzzle against his palm. “Wasn’t aware she did that.”
“Properly getting off does that to all creatures and spirits.” The two of us share an impish laugh prior to his thumb delivering an adoring stroke to my jawline. “We’re gonna get you a mint from my office, swing by A.D.’s for a change of clothes since yours ripped, and then go interrogate the traitor.”
“You mean since you ripped mine?”
“Semantics.”
“Details, sir,” I playfully scold, stealing a small nibble of his thumb when it inches over to graze my lips. “Remember, there is a distinguishing difference.”
Another low rumble shakes the elevator floor. “Mother of Dragons, you can’t call me sir at the office.”
There’s no use in fighting my girlish giggle.
“My dick cannot handle that shit.”
I seductively stretch myself forward to grab his swollen shaft, forcing him to choke me. “Let me help with that, sir…”
Hungry groans of encouragement ping around the confined space urging me to continue the naughty tryst we shouldn’t be having in the middle of the workday.
Fuck it.
Some rules are meant to be broken.
And when it comes to taking care of my half, let’s just say I’m more than willing to break all of them.
Ptur
I thought I knew what torture was.
Afterall, I’ve been around for a while…I’ve seen and done a lot of things in the category.
More often than not, there were restraints and tools used to extract information and torment a subject for a greater purpose.
Rarely was the creature just left alone, shackled to their own shaky self-control and pestered by their obnoxiously chivalrous behavior.
Do I wanna get fucking laid?
Yes.
Do I wanna bond?
Fuck yes.
Do I worry that even after four long and consecutive conversations before bed each night that my Fated Mate will regret the decision, she’s been begging me to agree to for days?
Unfortunately…yes.
And Mother of Dragons has Pint-Size been begging.
And taunting.
And forcing me to stroke my cock so many times in a day I’ve developed callouses.
Literal. Fucking. Callouses.
Bond.
Not to mention all the naked pleading that she’s done—because why would she negotiate fairly –has Platinum damn near clawing out of my chest every time I think back to the discussions regarding our future.
Which is what the issue is.
Bonding isn’t just about fucking—although I have never wished more that it was. It’s about two lives having to be one. A merger of cosmic proportions that I don’t think should be taken lightly or hastily or with a full nut sack and cranky dragon. As much as I want Cami in every way that I know I’m destined to have her, she still has a choice. I need her to have thoroughly read all the fine print, asked all the questions, and made all the amendments she feels she needs to before we fuck the bottom line.