Hello and welcome to this stop on the hop!! I want to first thank our hosts Bona Fide Reflections and Under the Covers for putting this hop together. Both blogs are excellent and I have been a follower for quite sometime!! So what can you win here? I thought you would never ask!! I'm going to have 10 winners (INT) because I have 10 e-books to giveaway!!! I have 5 copies of this one:
The angel stripper lowered his hand to his briefs and she sat with her eyes glued to his hand. He splayed his fingers out and dipped just the tips into his sexy underwear. Miranda gulped and a little bubble of moisture slipped from her pussy. How could a man do this to me, when he's in another room and can’t even see me?
Miranda was breathing heavier and unconsciously clasping her legs together as if fighting the urge to open her thighs and invite those long slim fingers in. She sat so far to the edge of her chair that she almost fell off.
He stilled his fingers for a moment and seemed to give a nod.
At the slight nod of his head, Miranda’s thighs opened of their own volition and she released a heavy sigh. It was as if he had some mental connection with her, like some kind of sexual ESP.
The Angel man licked his lips with his tongue, and with the slight sliding movement, her clit throbbed and she could feel it swell. Oh! Miranda shook all over while her hand lowered to her thighs.
Inexplicably, his fingers lowered to his briefs again, following the same trail as her hand did to herself.
She couldn't breathe, she couldn't think, she’d lost herself somewhere back when he had unbuttoned his shirt. I’ve lost my wits, all my good sense and self-control. Could this be why he was a dominator? He could almost direct you with his mind alone?
The sweet faced dominator didn’t stop there, he slid his hand all the way into his briefs and Miranda could see his body stiffen as though he’d grabbed his own cock. He again, licked his lips and nodded.
Miranda started to pant and her body shook. Somehow, she had her fingers in her panties and her wet pussy was soaking her thighs.
Sexy Angel man moved his hand as if he were stroking himself and he leaned his head back as though pleasure overtook him. He stroked it hard and fast.
Miranda did the same and pumped herself with her fingers. She thought she could hear him pant and moan. There was no way that could be, but she heard it loud and clear. She plunged her fingers in and out, matching his strokes as they grew slick with her own moisture.
“Ooh,” she muttered and her head came forward to look at the glass. Miranda was fucking herself with her fingers, repeating each cock stroke he did, into herself. It felt as if he were truly fucking her and she pushed them deep while repeating his plunging motions.
He stood tall and rigid, his eyes almost burning as the blue in his irises became brighter like two lit sapphires. He shoved his hand down hard into his briefs.
Miranda nearly crammed her three fingers all the way up inside of herself as though she felt his cock thrust high up into her. She gulped and her stomach muscles tightened. She sat with her thighs wide open, panting and helpless to stop herself.
Sexy hand fucking angel man seemed to look right at her, to look through her as he plunged his hand down on his cock again and mouthed. “Come for me.”
And 5 copies of this one:
Two hours later, I’ve changed my mind. I do hate this and him. My knees are screaming in agony, my back and arms ache, and my hands are raw. And I’m not even halfway done.
I pause and straighten, stretching my arms above my head. I want to quit. I want to take this bucket of water and throw it in his face, walk out the door and find the driver who brought me here and demand he take me back to the airstrip. Hell, I don’t even have to do that. All I have to do is utter the safe word we’ve agreed on and everything will come to a halt.
So why don’t I?
Because I haven’t gotten what I came for, and every nerve ending in my body tells me I will get it if I can just get through this test.
Gavin turns my crank. Even more than I expected. Before I came, I worried that even though I’d seen his photos and found him attractive, the chemistry wouldn’t be there in person. But it is. And despite the fact that he hasn’t touched me yet, not even in an asexual way, I can feel the thickness of the air and the crackling of the tension between us. He wants to do all the things he’s promised to me.
Even now, as I arch my back and roll my shoulders, I’m aware of him watching me. After I got down to scrub the floor, he took a large roll of paper out of a file drawer and spread it out on the large dining room table. He’s been there since, working on a project, I presume, while I’ve been on my hands and knees. I imagine he’s been getting a pretty good show, given my lack of panties and the way my breasts jiggle when I scrub.
In a way, demanding that I prove I really want to submit myself fully to him, without conditions or hard limits, is the act of a gentleman.
At the moment, however, that thought doesn’t make me any less impatient or resentful. I drop the scrub brush into the bucket. I’m done, and I’m willing to accept the consequences. What I’m not going to do is use my safe word to escape those consequences.
“Are you quitting?” Gavin asks.
I was right. He’s definitely been paying attention the whole time I’ve been working. “Yes, Master.”
God, saying that word sends a bolt of lust straight to my pussy. I’ve spent years wondering what’s wrong with me. How I could possibly be turned on by behavior other people would classify as controlling and abusive. Now, I know it doesn’t matter. I am. That’s enough.
“You know you haven’t finished what I told you to do yet.”
I somehow manage to get to my feet, which isn’t easy because I’m stiff from hours in one position, and turn to look at him. The expression on his face—cold and implacable—makes me so weak in the knees, I fear I might fall back down to them.
“I know, Master. But I need a break. I’m not used to this kind of work.” I try to keep any hint of whining or complaint out of my voice.
To my relief, the lines around his mouth ease. “I did ask rather a lot of you for a first day, didn’t I?”
Instinct tells me it isn’t wise to agree with him. I need to let him know that nothing he asks of me can be too much. “No, you didn’t ask too much. I just can do too little.”
A smile tugs at one corner of his mouth. He gets up from the chair and starts toward me. “Well played, pet, well played.”
There’s no mistaking the thick erection pushing against the zipper of his jeans. I close my eyes, swaying with anticipation. Something is finally going to happen.
“Open your eyes,” he commands, soft and low.
Even before I obey, I know he’s only inches from me. Heat radiates from him as though he’s an open flame, and his warm, cinnamon-sweet breath caresses my face. When I do open my eyes, I find he’s removed his glasses, and his eyes are an even more startling blue than I expected. Almost the same shade as the ocean that surrounds his island, and just as cutting.
I shiver, which makes no sense, because I’m burning up.
“You know there will be consequences for not completing your task.”
Oh God, I hope so. “Yes, Master.”
He reaches out and tucks a hair behind my ear. “I should make you finish, I think. I’m afraid you’ll consider the punishment I have in mind more of a reward.”
That sounds promising.
“Get on your knees.”
I blink my surprise as my knees scream in protest at the idea. “Master?” I can’t keep the note of pleading out of my voice this time.
“On your knees,” he repeats. “Now.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I do what he tells me. As soon as my knees meet the cool, hard tile, I want to cry. They may not be bloody, but they’re definitely bruised. It’s even more agonizing than I expected.
“Does that hurt?” he asks softly. And, I can’t help thinking, with a hint of delight. He’s enjoying my pain.
“Good. It wouldn’t be punishment if it felt good, would it?”
I shake my head. “No, I guess not.” My knees throb in protest, but my clit throbs more. I’m enjoying my pain as much—maybe more—than he is.
With my eyes still closed, I await whatever else he has in store for me. There’s a rustling sound and the unmistakable scritch of a metal zipper. I know what’s coming, and I lick my lips just as he brushes the velvety head of his cock against my cheek. Not waiting for his direction, I turn my head and open my mouth.
He grabs the back of my head and pulls me to a halt. Wincing because his fingers are threaded up under the bun over which my lacy French maid’s cap is pinned, I look up at him in confusion. Have I misunderstood his intentions?
“The first thing you need to learn, pet, is that you never do anything unless I tell you to. All the initiative is mine. Understood?”
Swallowing hard, I nod even though I’m not sure it’s a rule I can easily obey. I’m a little too Type A to never take the initiative. But for two weeks… Maybe. I’ll try.
“Good. Now, you’re going to open that pretty little mouth of yours, and I’m going to fuck it until I come down your throat. You are not to participate in any way. You’re just providing me a hole to fuck. Got it?”
I nod again. Every part of my body is tingling with arousal.
“And one more thing.”
“You are not allowed to come unless I tell you to. And I’m warning you right now, I’m not going to tell you to come today. If you do come, you’ll finish the floor.”
I stare up at him, stunned and terrified by this order. Because I’m so lit up, I’m not sure I can keep myself from coming. And the thought that I can’t makes the need even harder to suppress.
“Now, open wide, pet.”
I open. And pray.
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