Free Training Her Curves - Geneva (A BBW Billionaire Domination and Submission Romance) by Christa Wick Page B

clit.
    Suck, nip, slap, repeat.
    Over and over, my body jerking, my lips moving, incoherent babbling, his blue-eyed magpie coming again and again.
    Just before I was certain I would pass out, he dialed back. The slaps against my clit became a gentle massage as his other hand worked to release the suckers at my nipples. Repositioning the hand at my cunt, he continued to ease the swollen flesh between my legs as he gently pulled one nipple into his mouth and then the other.
    I remained perched atop the crest of my release, the timing of each move he made expertly executed. I couldn't remember my name, my address, my age -- but I remembered my safe word, if only to make sure I didn't carelessly use it and dam the deluge of ecstasy.
    "Shhh, baby," Dylan cooed, momentarily depriving me of his touch. Down came my legs, an efficient, short massage encouraging the blood to circulate more vigorously before he repeated the procedure with my arms.
    "Don't get up," he warned. "You won't find your body very cooperative yet."
    If I could have giggled, I would have. I couldn't remember how to move, had no intention of doing anything but lay there and pant softly.
    He brought me a tumbler of water and helped me sit up a little, my back against his chest and stomach while I emptied the glass. Something poked at me between sips, something smooth and hard, hot and long.
    I realized that the stop in action hadn't subdued his erection.
    "Done," I said and handed the tumbler to him, my mind racing to how the rest of the evening might unfold.
    "Play is over, love," he said, placing the glass on the side bar then taking a swig from the bottle. He studied my face, his gaze almost wary, and then he sucked a breath in.
    Still, he was hard, unflagging. Play might be over, but we weren't.
    He prowled the six steps from the sidebar back to the table. His arms flexed as he braced his palms against the surface, lifting his lower torso and legs like a gymnast or some parkour enthusiast so that he quickly covered me. He shifted a knee, wedging my legs open. His forearms flat against the table, closely framing my shoulders, he dipped his pelvis and filled me with the entire length of his cock in one swift thrust.
    "Like that, do you?" he teased as I moaned.
    "Love it," I answered, my facility for speech only partially restored. "Love you."
    He kissed me, stealing my breath then letting me steal his. We didn't talk, just moved against one another, bodies gently rocking in redemption. His hand trailed down my arm, our fingers intertwining as we came with soft pants and sweet moans.
    Finished, he remained inside me, the weight of his body settling me.
    He drew my hand up, a twinkle in his eye and a sparkle on my finger.
    My lips parted in surprise.
    "How did you do that?" I asked, as I stared at the radiant cut diamond hugged on each side by a trillion cut diamond.
    "How isn't the question," he countered, the voice of a master negotiator edging his tone, but with a tender smile softening his face.
    "Yes," I shamelessly squealed. "Yes is the answer."
    He blinked, his forehead touching mine and a tear splashing hot against the side of my nose. At that moment, I unlocked the last of his voices, the same one I would hear when he said "I do" and the first "hello, little man" he gave our son and, later, our grandson.
    "Baby, I'm going to love you forever."
    #####THE END#####
     
    When is the end not the end? When there is another Kehoe sibling and her as yet identified rope master, of course! And, hey, how about a ceremony or three? Let's not forget Maxwell King and the very bad men he does business with, or Mishka, the only man on the Kehoe team with both the skills and the background to infiltrate King's criminal organization.
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