Ties That Bind: The Bellum Sisters 3 (paranormal erotic romance)

Free Ties That Bind: The Bellum Sisters 3 (paranormal erotic romance) by T. A. Grey Page B

Book: Ties That Bind: The Bellum Sisters 3 (paranormal erotic romance) by T. A. Grey Read Free Book Online
Authors: T. A. Grey
eyes. “It's a gift. Come on, I thought you were smart. Just take it.”
    He shook his head and ignored the strange feeling in his chest. No one gave him gifts, ever. Why would they? Hell, it felt awkward as fuck. “I don't want it. Just keep whatever it is.” He stepped around her and took a seat at his desk as he finished stacking his papers and locking up the important documents that he wouldn't want some succubus to get in to.
    “Well, I'll tell you what. Either take the gift and open it now or I'll take off my dress and show you my new matching bra and panty set.”
    His jaw dropped like a falling elevator. What the hell?
    She was just playing games with him now. He slammed his finger into the intercom button and commanded Kearnyn to get his slow ass up here now . He ran a stiff-fingered hand through his hair and started making a few extra notes for his trip when she marched in front of the desk and planted her hands on it.
    The gift dropped on top of his desk with a soft thud. “It's a matching underwear set. I bought a few actually in black, yellow, red, and pink. But this one I bought just for you.” Her hands teased along the edge of her dress, fingers slowly curling around the fabric as she lifted it just an inch up her thighs.
    Telal dug his pen harder into the paper, but he couldn't ignore what he saw from the corner of his eyes—
    and neither could his cock. It swelled and sprung up to life like it saw a woman for the first time.
    The dress continued its assent, going up a little bit higher. Her voice turned sultry, a little husky. “This one is blue like your hair—my favorite color. Soft lace, a thong that sits right on my hips, between my cheeks,” she said, whispering now. His eyes no longer strayed but stared at the skin she revealed like a servant obeying his master. Slowly, moving like a dancer, she turned around to show him the curves of her ass as her hands worked that soft material up and up.
    His cock shoved against the zipper trying to escape, and damn if he didn't want to help it do just that. He curled his hands into fists to keep from reaching for himself. He never jacked off.
    “The bra cups my breasts lightly like a warm hand, pushing my breasts high and so close together they nearly kiss.” Her hips swayed side to side in a subtle rhythm as the dress reached the tops of her thighs. His breathing grew ragged. He wanted to see her ass again, had to see it again. Sweat formed on his brow but he ignored it and listened only to the sound of her smoky voice and the pounding of his heart.
    “And the panties,” she said slowly pulling the fabric over her round cheeks, baring to him the dip from thigh to cheek. “Slides smoothly right...up...the middle.” All the air whooshed out of him as she finally lifted the dress all the way, brazenly showing off her bare, rounded cheeks with a strap of blue lace tucked between them. Heart pounding like a heart attack, he licked his dry lips just as the office door shot open.
    Her dress quickly dropped back into place and she turned around to him with a sweet smile. She looked pointedly at the box on his desk. “Open it and yes, I am going with you.” Then she waved at Kearnyn and left.
    “Sir...what do you need?”
    It took him several moments to gather a coherent thought that didn't involve the words 'ass' or 'smooth' in it. “Nothing. Get out of here.” Kearnyn nodded without question and left.
    The image of her perfectly shaped ass wouldn't get out of his head. Neither would his stiff cock go down. “God dammit.”
    He picked up the stupid box and tore the thin red string wrapped around it and tossed off the black lid. He stopped at what he saw. Inside the box read Mont Blanc. His fingers trailed over the object that sat in velvet casing and then he plucked it out of its fitted cushion.
    It was a pen. Black, not too slender, and it fit in his palm comfortably. The tip looked like a quill feather, an old-fashioned fountain pen that required

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