His Indecent Secrets (Bound and Shackled to the Billionaire, BDSM Erotic Romance) Read Free Page B

almost forgotten what it’s like. His tongue strokes are clever and very, very invasive. He adds his fingers into the mix, tweezing her clit and inner lips and wriggling into her hole.
    She starts to pant. Her senses are being stimulated all at once by the morass of his probing body parts. Her climax is starting to build. He massages her clit, squeezing its tender little morsel of a hood now and again. Each time he does that, he sends a wave of exquisite pleasure cresting throughout her pubic mound, so much so that it becomes a slow, wavelike build – each wave buoyed by a gradual increase in its peaks.
    She arches her back and sinks into the bed. Her bonds are very tight and her legs are very stretched. This proffers her pussy to his skillful lips and tongue even more. He licks, sucks, nips and nibbles, and all the while he is thrusting two fingers in and out of her pussy in a semblance of fornication.
    Oh, she’s going to come. She writhes and wriggles, whipping her head back and forth on the pillow for the sheer pleasure of what he’s making her feel. She has no right to feel this way. He is after all her tormentor and a deranged psychopath.
    A killer.
    Just like Channing.
    Her road to her orgasm mounts. Rising, cresting, rolling upwards like an unstoppable wheel with enough momentum to reach the top. Her breathing escalates – little short sharp bursts of hunger.
    And then he stops.
    Oh fuck, she thinks.
    “Let me guess,” he says. He looks up at her from narrowed blue eyes, his chin slick with her creams. “He doesn’t eat pussy.”
    She wonders how much he knows about his brother. Her heart is still thudding so hard that she is sure it will break her ribs. Will he hurt her? Will he fuck her? Will he hurt her as he fucks her?
    “To answer your question before I was so enticingly engaged by your cunt, he tried to kill me.”
    She breathes in. This is where she must exercise judgment. He blames me for something I didn’t do , Channing’s voice echoes through the cavern of her memories.
    “How so?” she says.
    He pushes himself up her body so that he’s right on top of her. His eyes bore into hers like drill bits.
    “We were in Iraq. It was the last days of the war. There was killing everywhere. Looting, pillaging, raping. Channing was a captain in the US army. Decorated war hero.” Hugh’s tone is bitter. “I flew in as a freelance photographer to capture what I can. That’s when the news trickled over that someplace east of Baghdad, a warlord – a mighty rich one sitting on an Iraqi Fort Knox of gold bullion – was drowning women who didn’t obey his commands in swimming pools. Word has it they were his wives.”
    Channing has never told her the story in such detail before, and she now listens with bated breath. Hugh’s magnificent cock is poised at her entrance. She tenses. Her pussy is wet for him even as her mind rages against what he is about to do. It’s such a dichotomy.
    He spears into her. The rush of hot flesh expands her walls so suddenly that she shrieks.
    “Channing rounded up a posse. I tagged along. The US military to the rescue again.”
    He begins to thrust into her without allowing her to get used to his cock’s width.
    “We arrived there at the citadel, expecting a blood bath. Instead, the warlord welcomed us with cautious but open arms. He knew Baghdad would fall. He wanted to be on our good side so that he can keep whatever ill-gotten gains he siphoned off the people during Saddam’s reign. Or so he reckoned.”
    He’s panting slightly as he talks. It’s amazing. She hasn’t met anyone who can fuck and tell a story at the same time.
    “Everything we heard about the drowned women were lies, he told us. He showed us several women covered in burqa and assured us they were his wives. He could have shown us the maids for all we knew and we wouldn’t know the difference.
    “And then out came his daughter, Alia.”
    His breath stills as he says this. This is significant, she