You Are Mine Little Sister (by Syra Tucker) novel Chapter 120

Adrenaline dumped into my vein. This was about to be a wild ride.

With shaky knees, I pulled myself up, then sank same time I whimpered, "One."

His eyes darkened like storm clouds, pleasure building up in them. It was unbelievable how turned on he could get from my humiliation.

I rose and dropped again, numbering it, "Two"

The first five hurt as fuck as my body was still trying to house his ridiculous length. By the sixth, the sting began melting into heat, pleasure blooming where pain had lived.

My pace kicked up a little, my pussy climbing up and down his length, leaving proof of my arousal with every descent. When he tipped his head back, closed his eyes, and let out a deep, satisfied sound, it rewired my nerves. Heat shot up my cunt and I chased it.

"Fourty-two."

His head lifted. Hands branding my waist, he pulled me closer and buried his mouth at my chest, kissing everywhere his lips could reach. My breasts bounced against his face as I worked. His hands slid down to my bare ass, same time his mouth closed over a nipple.

I let out a broken "fuck," just before I counted "fourty-six".

He wriggled and kneaded my ass cheeks while his tongue did torturous things to my bud. It almost messed with my head. I squeezed my eyes shut as I fought for balance between the pleasure and numbers.

"Fifty-one...Oh God."

He sucked, pulled, nipped. His mouth moved to the next bud, sucking it while the other nipple got his fingers, receiving teasing circles that shorted my thoughts.

"Shit. Fifty...three. ugh!" My head fell backward.

He kept going—tongue, teeth, cock—each in concert, dragging me open. Suddenly my wrists didn't ache and my thighs didn't burn. All that mattered was the man before me and how badly I wanted to feed him what he demanded.

I understood it then, that even if he didn't have the whip and had simply asked me to ride him with my hands behind my back, I'd have gladly done it. Everyone had a remote button; I must've missed the moment I handed mine to Void.

I kept the count, he kept his tongue. His hand came around my throat, though he didn't choke. Soon, it was in my hair, then the small of my back, then a greedy palm full of ass. Anywhere he could touch me, he did, like mapping me made the numbers climb easier.

By the time I hit a hundred—something I hadn't believed my body could do—strength had begun to leak out of me. My pace stuttered, and my knees shivered.

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