The Pact Read Online Suzanne Wright

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Erotic Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 190
Estimated words: 181992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
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My pulse hopped and then swiftly began to quicken. At the same time, each and every muscle in my body tightened. “You’re like some kind of sexual sorcerer.”

His brows dipped. “A what?”

“I’m seriously pissed right now. There should be no way that my mind or body would so easily respond to the prospect of getting down and dirty, but both are totally game. You call, they answer. Just like that.” See, sorcery.

“Because every part of you—inside and out—knows you’re mine.” His eyes took a leisurely dip to my mouth and lingered there, tracing its shape. His gaze finally coasted back up to snare mine, delving deep; seeing too much; demanding my complete attention. “Strip. Lie on the rug. Say not one word.”

The dominant shards in his voice buried themselves deep in my thoughts, my skin, my willpower. The option to object was right there in his tone. I just didn’t want to object. I didn’t want to resist. I wanted to mentally sink into that place where I felt safe; where at the end of the following-his-lead rainbow lay spinetingling, mind-numbing, off-the-charts bliss.

I began to unbutton my shirt. Satisfaction shimmered in his eyes. And a familiar sense of calm flooded me as my world narrowed to him.

I peeled off layer after layer. The entire time, tension gathered in the air—sexual, muggy, oppressive. It thickened with every minute, became more electric with each piece of clothing I shed.

His eyes never once left me. They tracked my every movement, lethally focused as those of any wild predator. A glow of approval rose in those orbs when, naked, I padded over to the fluffy rug and lay on my back.

He moved to stand at my feet. “Spread your legs wide open.” The words flowed over my skin—his voice so soft, so deep, so lulling. He nodded once when I did as he bid. “Good. Now clasp your hands and stretch your arms high above your head.”

Again, I obliged him. I gripped at the tufts of fur on the rug, excitement beating in my blood and bringing a warm flush to my cheeks.

He looked his fill, taking his time. I might have fidgeted with nerves, but I felt immobilized by the expression on his face. It transmitted so much. Hunger. Need. Possession. A carnal intent that twisted my stomach.

“This would be a sight to come home to,” he said, his tone conversational. “I have to warn you, though … you’d have to make sure you were wet and ready for me. Because there’d be no foreplay.” Male greed pooled in his eyes as they locked on my pussy. “I’d sink my dick inside you and fuck you raw. I wouldn’t even bother getting undressed.”

His fingers went to his shirt buttons. Awesome. I licked my dry lips and watched as he began shedding his clothes. Anticipation rose up and nipped at my skin, bringing my nerve-endings buzzing to life.

Finally naked, he planted his feet. Damn, his body was a work of art. Period. And the dick jutting upward, thick and ready to roll, would easily win a cock pageant if such a thing existed.

He dropped down to kneel between my thighs, curled his upper body over me, and braced his weight on the palms he planted either side of my head. His eyes swept over every detail of my face—not simply my features, but each line, freckle, curve, and dip … as if appraising an antique or something.

Looping my arms around his neck, I angled my head to offer my mouth. He didn’t take it. He trailed the tip of his nose down my temple, along my cheek, across my jaw, all the way up the other side of my face, and then over my forehead until it touched my temple again … forming a complete circle.

Way too needy to patiently wait for him to move things along, I lifted my hips enough to grind against his hard shaft.

“You want my cock”—his tongue flicked out and lashed my lower lip—“you’re going to earn it,” he whispered, a purr of assertiveness there.

I blinked. “Earn it?”

“By pleasing me,” he explained. “I’m going to play with you now. You can move as much as you want. You can make as much noise as you want. But there’s one thing I wouldn’t recommend that you do.”

“What?”

“Come,” he replied. “You’re free to do so, of course. But if you do, that will be your orgasm for the evening. I’ll finish myself off in your mouth, or maybe come all over your pretty breasts. If, however, you hold out … I’ll shove my dick inside you and fuck you so hard you can’t take it—but you will take it.”

His mouth swooped down and closed over mine. His tongue snaked inside, glided against my own, and began that age-old dance he’d perfected. The kiss reeked of sex. Of need. Of him.


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