Page 153 of The Invite
His lips and jaw glisten from my juices.
An urge comes over me and I lean up without warning and lick his jawline, tasting myself on him. He stiffens, going ramrod still, but doesn’t make any move to stop my exploration.
Tentatively touching the side of his face, I run my lips closer to his. Peppering his skin with soft kisses and tiny licks, I clean the wetness away. His warm breath blows along my chin, burning me up with lust.
His lips beckon to me. My heart races as I get nearer.
Just one more inch.
He turns his head away a second before our lips can touch, crushing my insides.
“No kissing.” His hard tone feels like stones being pelted at my back.
My hand drops to the couch. “Why?”
“Do you really want to kiss a monster like me?” he counters.
I shouldn’t want to.
“I may protect and own you, Nessa, but I’m still a monster. Don’t forget that.”
“I haven’t.”You never let me.
Taking my wrists, he shoves them over my head and crisscrosses them. Lazily grinding his cock between my folds, he diffuses the tension by bringing me back to the edge.
“August,” I beg, done with the foreplay.
“This is your show, honey. Tell me how you wanna be fucked. Slow? Hard? Deep? Rough?” Nuzzling his nose against mine, he murmurs inches from my lips, “You want to ride me atyour own pace while I lie down? I won’t always be in a generous mood, Nessa. So, tell me.”
“I… I,” I stutter, unable to voice out the dark desire brewing in the back of my mind.
“Say it and it’s yours,” Augustus coaxes.
“I want you to fill me slowly until I’ve adjusted, then fuck me however you want.” I swallow before whispering, “WhileI control you with the knife, like last time.”
CHAPTER – 38
Nessa
I shut my eyes as soon as I say it, feeling his muscles stiffen.
Why did I say that?
A finger glides across my cheek, and he demands, “Look at me.”
I shake my head.
How do I tell him my own desires scare me sometimes?
“Ness,” he utters softly but firmly.
It takes some effort but I listen to him. He doesn’t look angry. Or repulsed. Quite the opposite. Something like concern flitters over his expression. How is that possible? Is it for himself or me?
At times like this, I really wish to dissect his brain or have a scientist do it. I know he has a heart buried somewhere inthere, but I’m not certain it possesses any feelings. Then he goes and stuns me like this.
“Is that what you want?” he questions in an unreadable tone. “You sure?”
I swallow. “Yes.”
