Page 63 of Tricked By Jack
The scent of her arousal slams into me—sharp, musky, intoxicating. My cock hardens instantly, straining against my jeans as I groan and bury my face closer, inhaling deep like I’m starving for her. I want her to see me savor it, to know I’m addicted to the way she smells before I even taste her.
“Jack,” she warns, but there’s no force behind it.
I lower my mouth to her inner thigh again, working my way up with open-mouthed kisses that leave damp traces on her skin. Each scar receives attention—reverent and possessive all at once. My hands slide beneath her ass, lifting her slightly to give me better access.
When I finally reach the apex of her thighs, I pause, breathing hot against her center without making contact. Her hips shift, seeking, but I hold her still.
“Ask me,” I demand softly.
Her eyes narrow, defiance flashing. “No.”
I smile against her thigh, admiring her stubbornness even as I plan to break it. “Then I’ll wait.” I press a kiss to her skin, just beside where she wants me. “I have all night.”
A frustrated sound escapes her throat. Her fingers tighten in my hair, trying to guide me. I resist, keeping my mouth maddeningly close but never touching where she needs it most. The power remains mine, even from my knees.
“Please,” she finally whispers, the word dragged from her like it costs her something vital.
“Please what?”
Her chest rises and falls rapidly. “Please… taste me.”
The surrender in her voice sends heat coursing through me. I reward her by dragging my tongue slowly through her folds in one long, deliberate stroke. The taste of her floods my mouth—salt and sweet and something uniquely Eve—as her back arches off the blanket.
I start slow, methodical, learning the terrain of her with my tongue. Each stroke maps a different reaction—what makes her gasp, what makes her thighs tense, what draws those perfect little moans from deep in her throat.
Cataloging every response, I mentally build a playbook of her pleasure that belongs to me alone.
“God,” she breathes, head falling back as I circle her clit with the tip of my tongue. “Jack…”
The sound of my name in that broken voice is intoxicating. I amp up my efforts, alternating between broad, flat strokes and precise flicks that make her hips jerk against my hold. My hands grip her thighs, spreading her wide, putting her on display just for me.
What begins as controlled exploration quickly fractures into hunger. I devour her like a man starved, moaning against her cunt as her taste floods my mouth. Her wetness slicks my lips, coats my chin, drips down to my throat until I’m marked with her in a way that feels like branding.
Eve’s restraint fractures by degrees. Her fingers guide my head more insistently now, pressing me where she needs me, and I let her.
Not because I’ve surrendered control, but because her desperation feeds my own hunger. I want to feel her come apart on my tongue, want to consume the pleasure I force from her body.
“More,” she demands, voice raw with need. “Please, husband, more.”
I slide two fingers inside her pussy, curling them until she cries out, the sound reverberating off the bars like a hymn to ruin. With my other hand, I press lower, circling her tight asshole.
“Have you ever been fucked here, wife?” My voice is husky and low.
“N-no,” she moans. She lets out a small yelp as I grip her thighs and pull her down so she’s half lying, half sitting. The perfect position for me to play with her ass.
“Fuck, you shouldn’t have told me that,” I rasp. The thought that I’m the first one to play with her ass makes my cock throb painfully from behind its denim prison. I remove the finger circling her ass, bringing it to her mouth. “Spit on it.”
She does, and once it’s fully coated in her saliva, I bring it back to her puckered opening. Her breath hitches as I slowly push it into her tight opening, stretching her as my tongue works her clit.
Her scream turns ragged, body jerking between the double intrusion, writhing helplessly against my mouth and hands. The cage doesn’t feel like it’s containingheranymore—it’s containingus,this savage ritual that belongs outside time.
Her pussy clenches hard around my fingers while her ass tightens around the one I’ve buried there, every muscle spasming under the rhythm I force on her.
My tongue lashes her clit, and I groan into her cunt as she writhes—the vibration making her buck harder, grinding against every point of me inside her.
I’m lost in it now—her taste, her heat, her body convulsing on my hands and mouth—everything I ever wanted to ruin and consume. The taste of her grows sharper, her arousal flooding my mouth as she approaches the edge.
“Let go,” I command against her flesh. “Come for me, Little Bride. Now.”
