Page 32 of Stitched Up in You
I belatedly realize I’m not as repulsed by her as I am other humans I’ve been in contact with, and that I can accept her steady pulse. Typically, I can’t stand to be near humans, their short electrical currents feel sluggishly weak next to my own. “And why would I agree to this?” I ask, genuinely curious why she would choose to play such a game when she gains nothing from it. I will never succumb to the influence of a human, and with as much as she knows, her life is on the chopping block no matter what she does.
Except her brow smooths as she caresses her gaze over my body.
“Consider it a civic duty. Saving one billionaire from self-destruction one blow job at a time,” she says sardonically.
“And if you don’t?” I ask, knowing she will never break my control, and I will remain as unaffected as always by the fairer sex. The sexual act is for release, and release alone.
“I will agree to be a good girl and stop giving you problems, and you,” she says, with a boop to my nose, “will hopefully loosen up a little.”
I inwardly chuckle. In the short days I have known this woman, she has never once given me any indication that she even knew the meaning of the word obedient. I glance over her, my eyes taking in how full-bodied she is for such a small human, all woman wrapped in a tiny package of chaos. I would be a fool to trust her, and a fool I am not.
“Then by all means,” I say, satisfied that I have already won. I will show her the true meaning of being put in place before the night is done.
She pushes off of my lap and bends before me as if to get on her knees, flicking her emerald gaze to mine from between my legs.
I cock my head at her, daring her with my gaze to continue, daring her to finish what she’s started with her garrulous mouth.
I don’t stop her when she unbuckles my belt. I don’t stop her when she slides her hands over my chest and slowly undoes the buttons. I don’t stop her, even though I consider it when she gazes at me in such a way I can’t describe, as if she’s seeing into my very soul.
And I don’t stop her when she takes hold of my cock and pulls it free of my slacks, half hard from her touch.
A sharp inhale and then a gasp exit her mouth.
“Still think you can manage me?” I ask, then lean back in my chair, folding my hands across my chest.
She stares down at my dick with what looks like awe on her face, and I only wish I could predict what would leave her mouth next. “I volunteer as tribute,” she says, dropping back on her heels.
Her gaze goes soft as she licks her bottom lip and wraps both hands around my girth, making my balls tighten in response.
“Do your worst then, human.”
Chapter 13
BERNADETTE CRENSHAW
He has the sexiest penis I’ve ever seen.
The thought registers as absolutely ridiculous, especially given the number of penises I’ve seen in my very long line of boyfriends.
After growing boobs early, I learned what my body did long before I should have and taught more than my fair share of men their way around a labia for the sake of all womankind, but never have I seen one as big as Frank Stein’s.
It is the sexiest.
Its big and proud, with pale skin like the rest of him—massive and studded with a barbell seated on top, like my very own dreamscape come to life.He has a Prince Albert piercing. It’s like being handed the best free ice cream in the world that’s smothered in chocolate from Brussels, before tossing on the prettiest cherry on top.
I might be lactose intolerant, but even I break the rules for ice cream and snacks.
My mouth instantly waters. “Holy custard cannon,” I mutter, reaching out to touch his length.
“Excuse me?” he says, his tone offended, but his voice trails off.
I’m about to suck Frank Stein’s dick like I lost my keys in it, I think to myself, swirling my hands around his thickness.Or do my best.
Bigger than my wrist, and probably bigger than even my largest dildo, he is magnificent. And the man is so tall, I’m eye level with his crotch—so hot.I can’t wait for him to fuck my mouth.
I fight to keep a grin from spreading across my lips at how easy it’s been to get this man’s dick out of his pants. I didn’t know what to expect, because he hasn’t given the slightest indication that he’s attracted to me since we arrived here, but I would be lying to myself if I didn’t acknowledge this is exactly what I’ve wanted all this time.
Swiping my tongue across my lips, I let my gaze go sultry, imagining what it would be like to fit this thing inside my pussy, but he doesn’t move even a muscle—a bored expression on his face.
