Mr Garcia
His thick, broad chest comes into view, as well as his muscular stomach and the trail of black hair that disappears down into his pants.
He takes the cigar from me and pours himself a glass of tequila. “Get on your knees.”
I drop to the floor on my knees, and he unzips his pants and steps out of them. He falls into my place on the chair. He spreads his legs and leans back, inhaling the cigar, drink in hand as he watches me.
His cock is thick and heavy between his legs, engorged with the large risen vein through the center.
He inhales his cigar again. “Suck. My. Cock,” he mouths. The smoke drifts out of his mouth and dances in the air.
Fuck, he’s a dirty bastard.
I spread his legs and kiss his inner thigh. He grabs my face aggressively. “I’m not paying to be fucking kissed,” he growls.
Jeez.
My arousal begins to hammer, and I lick up the length of his cock. Dark eyes watch me.
“All of it,” he mouths.
I take him into my mouth. The taste of pre-ejaculate hits my tongue, and my eyes flutter closed.
He hisses sharply. I flick my tongue over the end of him, teasing as I go, and he grabs the back of my head and pushes me down, forcing me to take all of him.
I gag.
“There’s nothing hotter than the sound of a woman choking on my cock,” he whispers.
Bastard.
I bet he’s heard that sound a million times before.
With both hands on his thick quads, I deep throat him. He sits back, legs wide, cigar in hand, watching me.
Emotionless and cold.
Detached.
I can feel the arousal building between us. He’s rock hard, and with every stroke of my tongue, my body gets wetter.
He tips his head back and drains his glass of tequila before he pushes me back. “Come.” He holds out his hand.
I stand, and he leads me up the stairs. I smile, knowing just how hard his cock is and how good I’m going to get it.
We get to the top of the stairs, but instead of turning right to his room, he leads me to the left.
Huh?
We walk into the last guest bedroom down the hall, and I frown. I came into this room once when we first met. It has a king-size bed and its own bathroom, and the floor is hardwood instead of carpet. I thought it was odd that it was so different to the rest of the house.
He closes the door behind us and turns toward me.
His eyes are ablaze with desire. There’s something different about him tonight, I just can’t put my finger on it.
He pulls the blankets back, revealing leather sheets.
Huh? What is this?
“Get on the bed.”
I hesitate.
“Now,” he orders.
I lay down on the bed. He grabs my hands and brings them up over my head. He pulls the curtains behind the bed to reveal four sets of handcuffs attached to the iron bedframe.
What the hell?
He handcuffs me to the bed with a cold detachment.
My heart begins to hammer with confusion.
What’s going on?
He goes to the door and locks it with a key, and then with the same key unlocks a wall-length cabinet.
The air leaves my lungs as the color drains from my face.
Every sex toy known to man is in here, as well as bottles of lube. Huge dildoes, a sex doll, whips, and bandage gear.
Panic runs through me.
What the fuck is this room?
He takes out a bottle of oil and pours it all over me. It splashes all over the leather sheets.
Dark eyes hold mine.
“Don’t tempt the Devil, Cartier. You may not like him.”
27
April
Uneasiness fills me.
I’m all for roleplay but…
I swallow a nervous lump in my throat.
He straddles my body and, starting at my toes, he slides up over me. My body begins to relax as his hard dick makes its presence known. His intention unwavering, and he does it again, this time stopping at my chest to straddle my body. I’m trapped beneath his strong thighs.
Who’s he kidding? I fucking love the Devil.
Bring it.
He begins to rub his hardened cock through the oil between my breasts. His rippled abdomen glistens in the light. My hands are tied above my head, and I stare up at him in awe.
No matter how fucked-up Sebastian Garcia is, his touch silences me every single time.
He grabs my face and brings my ear to his mouth. “So, you want to be my whore.”
I pant, my eyes closing.
His hand tightens on my face as he jerks me hard. “Answer me.” He growls.
“Yes,” I whimper.
“You want to use your beautiful, creamy cunt to make me happy?”
Fuck. how is he so filthy?
If dirty talk was an Olympic sport, Sebastian Garcia would be the king of the world.
I nod. “Yes.”
He licks the side of my face. “Here’s how this is going to go,” he whispers as his tongue dances near my ear. Goosebumps scatter up my spine. “You’re going to clench yourself around my cock so hard that you nearly snap it in two.”