Ice Queen by Joey W Hill

Author:Joey W Hill [Hill, Joey W]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B002AJGKK8
Publisher: Ellora's Cave
Published: 2006-11-28T13:00:00+00:00

Joey W. Hill

“Please.” She managed it, though fear clutched at the word as it emerged from her raw throat. “Please let me come.”

The tip of his cock trailed down her ass and then his head was between her legs, his hands on her thighs, forcing them more widely apart. Lifting her as his tongue thrust in, he brought heat among the remains of the ice, stroked her passageway and brought it back to warm life. The five o’clock shadow of his beard scraped her clit, her thighs.

Finally, he let her go over.

The orgasm grabbed her body in hands as ruthlessly pleasurable as his. Her abused throat could not stop what went beyond a scream and into the realm of a tearing wound. Body thrashing wildly, hands pulling at her bonds, she sank her teeth into the mattress. She thrust against his mouth over and over until her body simply gave out, the muscles no longer able to do anything but twitch. Small, painful whimpers came from her throat as the pleasure kept whirling through her.

He kept his mouth working her long after she was done and had become so

sensitive she was jerking in convulsions against his touch. It told her more adamantly than words that he was making sure he’d driven the lesson home.

Whatever reality existed for her when Sunday came around, he’d taught her in less than an evening that he had the upper hand. That he could Master her.

* * * * *

At last he rose, stood by the bed. Vaguely she registered the fact that he was pulling a towel from the dresser drawer.

“Ty…” She stopped, cleared the residual lust out of her voice that made it sound so husky and intimate. “Tyler?”

“Yes, baby?” He knelt next to the bed so she could see his face, the stern set of his mouth, the gentle look in his eyes. No one could be as gentle as a powerful man. Or as ruthless. He was both sides of that coin, cloaking one in the guise of the other, changing back and forth and making her crave both.

“Will you…leave it?”

She could barely form words, so exhausted that the energy to move her lips was an effort. She wanted his mark on her, wanted to feel it dry on her skin, smell the heavy scent of him.

The immediate burn of hot possessiveness in his eyes told her she’d pleased him immeasurably. She didn’t want to feel the new flood of aroused reaction in her body that came as an involuntary response to it.

“All right. Sleep, Marguerite. Close your eyes.”

Relieved to finally escape that direct, all-too-knowing stare, she closed her eyes.

“I want you to answer me a question before you slide off into dreams.” His voice was a murmur. A lullaby. “And answer it without thinking it through. What is it about BDSM that attracts you so?”

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