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Hours pass before the door to my room opens again. I’m exhausted from the sheer number of orgasms I’ve had on this device that’s firmly clenched between my legs. I tried to move so many times, but the chain wouldn’t allow it. And the longer I stayed in position, the weaker I became.
My legs have turned into a puddle beneath me. I’m shaking from the intense sexual lust flowing through every fiber of my being and the sheer need consuming me whole.
Easton walks into my room, closing the door behind him, and I can barely lift my head to look at him. I’m tired … and so fucking aroused I can’t think straight. I want this to end. I want to explode into bliss.
Easton stands in the middle of the room, towering over me. He stares at my naked body, his eyes following every bead of sweat that rolls down my forehead. The moment seems to last an eternity.
My lips part, and my tongue moves without regret.
“Please,” I murmur.
The left side of his lips inches up as he lowers his head. Almost as if he’s waiting for me to continue.
So I do.
The words that slip from my mouth release the load off my shoulders. I’ve been carrying this guilt and shame for far too long. It’s done now. My resolve is gone.
I want this more than anything.
My body quakes with yearning. It wishes there was more than this device thrumming against my clit. My body already knew long ago what my mind refused to believe.
My soul wants this man. It’s tethered to him by something more than a debt. My body sings to his tune, and he knows this well.
It’s showing on his face in his wicked smile and the triumphant glimmer in his eyes.
I lower my head in defeat as he approaches. There’s no point in fighting him. He’s already claimed my body, so why would I hold onto that last sliver of me? Besides, I don’t even want to anymore. There’s nothing I crave more than to have him deep inside me, to come one last time, and then fall into an eternal sleep.
Suddenly, the buzzing between my legs stops. Sensations no longer bombard my clit, but it continues to throb with pleasure. It’s a strange feeling … as though someone has ripped away the very thread that kept me together.
When Easton’s hand touches my shoulder, I brace for what’s to come. Will he shove me against the bed and fuck me on the floor from behind? Will he pull me up by my chain and fuck me on the bed in traditional style? Or will he shove me against the door and make me look at him while he takes my pussy?
His hand slides upward along my neck, and he cups my chin and lifts my head. He slithers down to grasp the chain.
The chain falls to the floor, and I’m no longer confined to the bed.
Just like that … I’m free.
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Clarissa Wild is a New York Times & USA Today Bestselling author of Dark Romance and Contemporary Romance novels. She is an avid reader and writer of swoony stories about dangerous men and feisty women. Her other loves include her hilarious husband, her two crazy but cute dogs, and her ninja cat that sometimes thinks he’s a dog too. In her free time she enjoys watching all sorts of movies, playing video games, reading tons of books, and cooking her favorite meals.
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