Read Online Saving Sara (Masters of the Castle) by Maren Smith - Free Book Online
Authors: Maren Smith
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his fingers—her breath caught; her nipples began to swell and throb—combed down through the ready folds of her hot and aching sex.
“Look at me,” he said, when she tried to hide her face. “When we talk, I want you to look at me. Any time I touch you, I want you to look at me.”
Sara shook, her stomach flinching sharply, her hips tucking into the mattress when he found her clit. It took him very little effort to peel back the sheltering hood and bare her to the full-on caress of his thumb. She locked her eyes on him and fought to keep them there.
“There will be no misunderstandings between us,” he said, above her barely stifled whimpers. “From this moment until I release you, your body is no longer yours. Every part of you will be for me and me alone. I will give you to no one else. Who do you belong to, Sara?”
His fingers caught her clit between them and his thumb pressed in, amplifying the fever of her need and filling her with a flood of throbbing warmth.
“You,” she moaned, her eyes trying to close when he began once more to caress. She fought to keep them open, to keep her stare fixed with his.
“I am going to fuck this pussy.” His fingers pinched her again. His thumb pressed; her hips nearly came up off the bed. Her legs tried to wrap around him, needing to pull him closer. He refused to budge. “Whose pussy is this?”
“Yours!” She arched, lifted up into the press of his hand only to feel him suddenly release her and withdraw. He slapped her sex, a light spank that felt anything but.
“Lie still,” he censured.
Sara locked her muscles. She gripped the sheet with both fists, closing her mind to the ravage of need that screamed out in raw wanting when he slipped his fingers between her folds and abruptly thrust two fingers all the way up inside her. He rocked her with the fury of his pumping hand. His palm slapped her pussy, stinging the flesh and mashing against it, but all she could hear was the wetness of his driving fingers, and all she could feel was the indescribable sensation of being so filled, so deeply touched, so roughly stroked.
She threw out her hands, grabbing as much of the bedspread as she could gather, twisting as she hung on for dear life. Her heels dug into his buttocks, her legs shook. Each breath became a moan, gritted out through tightly clenched teeth as her muscles clamped down upon him, desperate to ride.
He took her right to the edge, the very sharp edge where shivers of pleasure began to override every other crashing need, and then his fingers whipped out of her, abandoning her so abruptly and completely that the sudden lack of friction felt more like a cutting wound. She sobbed; he slapped her pussy, harder than before, taming her need with spanks hard enough to make her whole body jump.
“I am going to fuck this mouth,” he growled and began to crawl up her body, the look on his face almost one of anger as he snapped, “Headboard.”
She scrambled to get up to it and Jackson pursued her every kicking, clawing inch of the way. She destroyed the carefully made bed in her haste to get her back to the pillows and her head propped up against the headboard. In her haste, she got too high, but he grabbed her hips and jerked her just a few inches lower and then he was straddling her chest, with her hair in his fist and her head pillowed in his hand. He tugged and yanked to rip free of the confines of his jeans.
“Sir!” she gasped when the head of his cock sprang into sight beyond his open zipper.
He shoved both his jeans and underwear down just far enough to get them out of his way.
“Whose mouth is this?” he demanded, gripping his cock in his other hand.
“Yours!”
He jerked her head back against the headboard when, in her eagerness, she surged to get her mouth on him. “Hands.”
She grabbed the bedframe, hooking her fingers through the thin slit of space at mattress level and hung on, opening her mouth wide and becoming the willing sheath
“Look at me,” he said, when she tried to hide her face. “When we talk, I want you to look at me. Any time I touch you, I want you to look at me.”
Sara shook, her stomach flinching sharply, her hips tucking into the mattress when he found her clit. It took him very little effort to peel back the sheltering hood and bare her to the full-on caress of his thumb. She locked her eyes on him and fought to keep them there.
“There will be no misunderstandings between us,” he said, above her barely stifled whimpers. “From this moment until I release you, your body is no longer yours. Every part of you will be for me and me alone. I will give you to no one else. Who do you belong to, Sara?”
His fingers caught her clit between them and his thumb pressed in, amplifying the fever of her need and filling her with a flood of throbbing warmth.
“You,” she moaned, her eyes trying to close when he began once more to caress. She fought to keep them open, to keep her stare fixed with his.
“I am going to fuck this pussy.” His fingers pinched her again. His thumb pressed; her hips nearly came up off the bed. Her legs tried to wrap around him, needing to pull him closer. He refused to budge. “Whose pussy is this?”
“Yours!” She arched, lifted up into the press of his hand only to feel him suddenly release her and withdraw. He slapped her sex, a light spank that felt anything but.
“Lie still,” he censured.
Sara locked her muscles. She gripped the sheet with both fists, closing her mind to the ravage of need that screamed out in raw wanting when he slipped his fingers between her folds and abruptly thrust two fingers all the way up inside her. He rocked her with the fury of his pumping hand. His palm slapped her pussy, stinging the flesh and mashing against it, but all she could hear was the wetness of his driving fingers, and all she could feel was the indescribable sensation of being so filled, so deeply touched, so roughly stroked.
She threw out her hands, grabbing as much of the bedspread as she could gather, twisting as she hung on for dear life. Her heels dug into his buttocks, her legs shook. Each breath became a moan, gritted out through tightly clenched teeth as her muscles clamped down upon him, desperate to ride.
He took her right to the edge, the very sharp edge where shivers of pleasure began to override every other crashing need, and then his fingers whipped out of her, abandoning her so abruptly and completely that the sudden lack of friction felt more like a cutting wound. She sobbed; he slapped her pussy, harder than before, taming her need with spanks hard enough to make her whole body jump.
“I am going to fuck this mouth,” he growled and began to crawl up her body, the look on his face almost one of anger as he snapped, “Headboard.”
She scrambled to get up to it and Jackson pursued her every kicking, clawing inch of the way. She destroyed the carefully made bed in her haste to get her back to the pillows and her head propped up against the headboard. In her haste, she got too high, but he grabbed her hips and jerked her just a few inches lower and then he was straddling her chest, with her hair in his fist and her head pillowed in his hand. He tugged and yanked to rip free of the confines of his jeans.
“Sir!” she gasped when the head of his cock sprang into sight beyond his open zipper.
He shoved both his jeans and underwear down just far enough to get them out of his way.
“Whose mouth is this?” he demanded, gripping his cock in his other hand.
“Yours!”
He jerked her head back against the headboard when, in her eagerness, she surged to get her mouth on him. “Hands.”
She grabbed the bedframe, hooking her fingers through the thin slit of space at mattress level and hung on, opening her mouth wide and becoming the willing sheath
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