Free THE INVITATION (The Marriage Diaries, Volume 5) by Erika Wilde

providing.
    “I’m good,” she said, and meant it.
    “What you are is perfect ,” he said, and she heard the smile in his voice.
    He stood up and came around the chair so that he was behind her, his hand gliding gently along her jawline. “So, which one of you men wants a taste of the ripest, sweetest peach, and the finest, richest cream?” he announced to the males in the viewing room. “And yes, my wife’s pussy tastes that decadent.”
    Jillian’s breath hitched as she realized what he was doing, what he was offering. Holy shit . Instinctively, she tried to close her legs to all those hungry eyes on her, but the steel rod prevented her from executing the action.
    “Umm, we have quite a few volunteers, not that I’m surprised,” he murmured in amusement, his mouth near her ear as he spoke, clearly enjoying the power and control he held over her, over the situation. “There’s a man, all by himself. He’s been watching you so intently. I’m going to let him come inside, allow him to go down on you, and make you come while I watch.”
    Her entire body tensed all over again, and her pulse raced with a lick of panic as Dean walked away and she heard the door open, then close . . . then more footsteps toward her.
    Oh, God, was he really going to let another man pleasure her while he watched?
    Her mind spun, and her heart raced so hard it drowned out any other sounds in the room. Inside, she was shaking, trembling, torn between fear and yes, even excitement, because it was a fantasy she’d entertained before . . . but only in her mind. Never would she have ever believed it would become a reality.
    Trust me . I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, or us . She silently repeated those words, chanted them in her head like a mantra as she felt the touch of fingers glide along the inside of her thighs, stroking softly, seductively, over and over again, turning her panic into something more provocative . . . like heated desire.
    Not being able to see or touch and being completely restrained stripped away her control, and she gave herself over to this erotic scenario, let herself feel and respond to the brush of fingertips up her spread legs followed by the hot, damp touch of firm, sensual lips on her skin . . . sucking, licking, nibbling toward her pulsing sex.
    She bit her bottom lip, which did nothing to contain the moan of pure surrender that escaped her throat. His thumbs parted her slick flesh, exposing her every secret, and she shuddered hard as the rasp of a hot tongue dragged across her sensitive folds.
    Her hands tightened into fists at her sides, and her head fell back on a gasp as he slowly laved her mons again before his mouth covered her and his tongue lashed her clit — toying, stroking, inflaming her in a way that was intimately familiar, in a way that only one man knew her body well enough to know what she liked, what turned her on the most, and knew exactly what it took to make her climax . . . or keep her right on the sharp, sweet edge of release.
    The eroticism of a stranger fantasy mingled with the safety of reality allowed every last bit of reserve to fall away. Her mind embraced the illusion, as did her body. As the mouth on her sex continued to devour her, the vibrations inside her increased, the pleasure orb fluttering against her inner walls. The dark ache of desire rippled through her blood stream, her orgasm so close, so close . . . and then the mouth and fingers between her thighs were gone and the sensation ebbed.
    She panted, whimpered, and tears of frustration leaked from her eyes behind the blindfold. She wanted to curse Dean for leaving her so bereft, but knew that wouldn’t change a thing, except earn her another smack of the leather paddle.
    “Hang on, baby girl,” he said, his voice deep and rough with his own desperate need. She could hear him moving around the room, the sound of him quickly shedding his clothes filling her ears then he was back, helping her to