Page 18 of Feast

“You’re somean,” she wheezed and lifted her head to look at him with glazed eyes.

“You said that already,” he reminded her and noted that while her mouth was sayingmean, her pussy had gotten noticeably wetter.

She shoved at her hair, which was sweaty and tangled again. “It bears repeating.”

“Put your hands above your head,” he ordered.

“Why?” she asked even as she lifted her arms.

“Because I said so,” he replied, then shook his head. “No, that won’t work. Lace your fingers together and tuck them behind your head.”

“Why am I doing this?” she asked, shifting her hands behind her head.

“Because I didn’t bring any rope,” he reminded her. “Keep your hands there.”

“Or what?” she challenged.

“Or I’ll stop,” he answered and lowered his mouth to her pussy.

4

The first touch of his tongue on her aching cunt had Maddie clenching her hands in her hair to keep from moving them, because if he stopped she might just die. It might have been the strangest foreplay she’d ever encountered—five minutes of staring at her naked body and a pinch on her clit that had made her see stars—but it fucking worked, and she was already so close to an orgasm she could taste it.

She was half afraid he’d sense it and back off in favor of torturing her some more, but three seconds in it was clear that backing off wasn’t his plan. He all but devoured her, sucking on her labia and nibbling her clit and shoving his so tongue deep into her needy, greedy hole she’d have sworn she could feel it tickling the back of her throat, and just like that, she came shrieking.

He lifted his head. “Damn. That’s a hair trigger you’ve got there, baby girl.”

“Sorry,” she gasped, trying to catch her breath. “You’re really good at that. And I was kind of worked up.”

“Still are,” he observed and ran one finger around her still pulsing clit.

She shivered and jerked, an instinctive attempt to avoid contact. The orgasm had left her clit super sensitive, making the gentle rasp of his calloused finger feel almost unbearably rough. “Don’t.”

His finger stilled. “Sensitive?”

“Yeah.” She looked at him. He loomed at the foot of the bed, tall and broad and sexy as fuck with her pussy juice shining on his chin. She wanted to sit up and lick his face, but her muscles felt like noodles and he was still touching her, so moving wasn’t an option.

“You didn’t move,” he said, and she wondered if he was actually reading her mind before realizing he was talking about her hands, still safely tucked behind her head.

“I guess not.” She couldn’t quite get a read on him. With her brain still scrambled from her orgasm, she wasn’t sure if that was approval she heard in his voice or if he was laughing at her. “Do I get a prize?”

“What, like a reward?” he asked, one eyebrow raised, and now she wassurehe was laughing at her.

She felt too good to care. “Why not?”

“Why not?” he echoed, and let out a rich chuckle with an oddly sinister undertone that in hindsight, she should’ve paid closer attention to. “Okay, sugar, I’ll give you a prize.”

Hoping it was his dick, she lifted her head to get a better view.

“Stay put,” he told her, and to her mingled horror and delight, lowered his face back to her pussy. “And keep those hands right where they are.”

“Too soon,” she moaned in protest.

“Too bad,” he said just before his tongue hit her pussy.

To her profound relief, he avoided direct contact with her clit—there was some mercy lurking in that dark and twisted soul—but he was no less voracious than he was the first time. Lapping, nibbling, stabbing his tongue into her over and over until she was writhing on the bed. She started to reach down and grab his head to move him where she needed him, but she’d barely gotten her hands out of her hair when he lifted his head, barked, “Bad girl,” in a voice like steel and slapped her pussy. Hard.

She cried out, jerking violently at the bright, sharp burst of pain. Then she jerked again when he drove straight back into her pussy, tongue fucking her with such savage force that she could feel his teeth pressing into her labia.

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