The Black Room: The Deleted Door by Jasinda Wilder & Jade London

Author:Jasinda Wilder & Jade London [Wilder, Jasinda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-11-22T00:00:00+00:00

*

I don’t know how. How do I comfort a man like him? How do I soothe the scars on his soul?

There is only one way. Only one thing he wants from me. I caress my palm over his breastbone, follow the path of my hand with my lips, and slide gentle kisses across his skin, from left shoulder to right. I kiss the scar and he shudders as my lips touch the roughened flesh. I move so my body covers his, my weight on him, pinning him to the bed, reminding him of weight and reality. My hands carve from his shoulder down his sides, to the angled indents of his hipbones; flit my tongue over his nipple; lay my breasts across his semi-erect penis. Writhe and twitch, scrape the tips of my breasts over his shaft, slide the thickening length between them. Kiss along one side of his body, from just beneath his armpit to hipbone, letting my hair fall like a blanket of golden silk on his tan skin. I kiss his belly. Just beneath his navel. Lick the hollow between balls and hip and thigh. He’s breathing hard, eyes shut tight. Fighting some secret war within himself.

Run my palms up and down his thighs. Tease his length with my tongue. Caress it with my fingertips. Cup his sac with my palm, massage his balls. Lick up his cock from root to tip with the flat of my tongue.

He reaches down, feathers both hands into my hair. Pulls me up his body. “Not that,” he murmurs. “You.”

I straddle him to sit on his belly, laying forward, pressing my tits against his chest, and grinding my core against him. Reaching down with my left hand, I find his hard length, guide him to me, and fit him to my slit. Tease him there, not quite letting him in. Kiss his jaw. Right palm on his cheek, beard soft beneath my palm. Flex my hips, roll them. Kiss his cheekbone. Rub my thumb across his lips and press my slit to the head of his cock, breathe a sigh in his ear and sink down onto him. He groans, a long low guttural sound, and he clutches my ass with both hands, tilts his head backward, lift his hips off the bed.

Bite his earlobe.

Roll my hips to glide my cunt around his erection, breathing and moaning in his ear.

The noises aren’t faked or exaggerated; he feels that good inside me. But as good as this feels it isn’t for me, not really

I’m a fool. I know this.

He’s not mine.

This will end.

But for now, this is enough.

I remain flat on his body, moving only my hips. I curl one arm beneath his neck; the other buried in his hair, then tuck my face against the side of his neck. I’m seeking some semblance of intimacy. Some way of making this less raw, less physical. Seeking a connection with him. A connection I do not deserve.

But one I will take anyway, deserved or not.

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