Read Online Breaking Joseph by Lucy V. Morgan - Free Book Online

he
ripped the capped sleeves. He stripped Charlie away, destroying any
slither of his grasp on me. Naked, sacred…I was utterly bare.
    When he was
done, he pulled the remains of the dress from under me and I winced
as my skin hit cold tiles. Another slice and the belt came off in
one severed piece. I wore only the stockings, shoes and an
unintentional pout.
    “When I get out
of this, I’m going to make you pay for it,” I warned.
    His face
appeared before me, lightly tanned skin against the twilight. “Is
that so?”
    I cocked my
heel and drove it sharply into his ribs. There was no flinch but he
groaned, and his eyes turned vivid beneath a glassy sheen of
pleasure. “You’ll have to do it a little harder than that,” he
said, chuckling.
    “Is that a
threat or an invitation?”
    “Both, I
think.” He kissed me again, his tongue slow this time. Pulled off
to stare me in the eye and then descended before I remembered to
breathe.
    I tried so hard
to be disagreeable but my body already followed his, my back
arching so my nipples caught against his shirt. The rope was a lot
harsher than the black scarves he’d used before, and it cut into my
flesh, stinging to numbness as I moved beneath him.
    He broke off to
pour breath down my belly. His tongue dragged over the scratched
brand that was healing so unfortunately well. Already, I ached for
him to sink lower–I hadn’t forgotten the teasing kisses he planted
there that morning, or the riot of my pulse in response.
    He parted me
with his fingers first. “You’re very neat down here. Do you know
that?”
    “Uh…thank
you.”
    “I’ve seen a
lot of women. You’re neat.” He toyed with my clit lazily. “And you
get so fucking wet for me.”
    It was an
effort to dart from his hand, to resist the urge to buck on it.
    He inhaled.
“Tell me why.”
    “Why…what?”
    His thick thumb
slid inside me and grazed along the bottom wall. “Why you get like
this. Are you such a sticky mess for all your clients?”
    “No.”
    “Just for
me?”
    “You’re not
like my client.” I was tired of failing to resist. No good at
it.
    “Would you do
what I said if I wasn’t? Would you still be tied up on my terrace,
would you have bent down in front of me that first night and begged
me to fuck you?”
    “Quite
possibly,” I mumbled.
    A warm hand
cupped my cheek. “Did you always want me, Leila?”
    I tugged at my
bonds without thinking. All those work meetings, the permission to
stare at him, fantasizing about what his throat would taste like…I
never thought it would happen like this. “You have no idea.”
    He grinned,
made me suck his wet thumb. “I thought you were a prissy little
trophy girl.”
    “You’re an
awful judge of character.” I teased. “You thought Matt just wanted
a fuck too.”
    “You are a
prissy little trophy girl, though. In the office.” He pulled his
fingers out again and smeared up over my clit. “A dichotomy in
every sense of the word.”
    “That’s the
worst pun I’ve heard in a long time.” I kicked his ribs, playfully
this time.
    He grabbed at
my ankle and unbuckled the shoe. “Shut up.”
    Everything
about my jutting lower lip was a challenge, and his cheeks turned
pink as he noticed.
    He pulled the
shoe off my free foot and pressed my thigh back on my belly. Ah,
being exposed so blatantly…I got drunk on it, and I loved how this
man, so composed in the light of day, delighted in every inch of
me.
    He held the
shoe up. “They have a good heel.”
    “They do.” I
jumped as the heel grazed my inner lips.
    “It’s pretty
long,” he went on, watching me. “A little sharp, too.”
    He pressed it
inside, and I moaned as the foot slapped into my clit. It barely
slid in an inch or two, and felt narrow, but the point scratched at
flesh inside with razored sweetness.
    God, I was
going to be sore.
    “How long can
you take this before you start to beg?” he said.
    “You didn’t
break me earlier. You won’t now.”
    But he