The Architect (Nashville Neighborhood Book 3) Nikki Sloane (sight word books TXT) 📖

So I did, over and over again.

He studied me like a student eager to get a perfect test score, watching me as my fingers played with my clit, mentally cataloguing every moan and sigh I made.

It was erotic performing for him, yet surprisingly intimate too.

I’d gotten myself off at least twice, but he drew my final one out. My body pleaded for release, and when he finally allowed it, bliss rushed through me in a hot wave. I collapsed back on his couch, swallowing gulps of air, and stared up at the nothingness of his vaulted ceiling.

A terrible realization dawned inside me.

My orgasms had been satisfying . . . so why didn’t I feel satisfied?

Since E and I weren’t allowed to talk to each other, I liked to think that we were able to communicate other ways. Body language, or breaths too soft for Clay to hear, or an exchange of looks.

Hi, I said, when E stepped through the front doorway. I missed you.

I missed you too, I imagined his eyes saying back to me.

Clay was oblivious to the conversation going on between us, too eager to get started. “Let’s head downstairs.”

We’d done it enough times, preparing for the scene came naturally to all of us. I undressed while E set up his laptop. He connected with Clay, then took my phone from me and hung it up, setting it on the workbench beside his computer. He adjusted the angle of the camera until Clay said it was good, before both men set their sights on me and . . .

Then the scene truly began.

It’d been a long, especially hard day at the clinic this afternoon, and I was emotionally drained, but my exhaustion and everything else melted away when E approached. I gave a startled, then relieved sigh as he fisted my hair, jerked my head back, and sank his teeth into the side of my neck.

It took no time to fall under the spell of their dominance.

Not long after I was bound to Clay’s prototype chair, did I understand why Clay had been studying my cues in our previous session. E teased me mercilessly with the cordless wand vibrator, taking me right to the brink, only for Clay’s sharp order to ring out and bring me to a screeching halt.

While the impending orgasm slipped away, E undid his jeans and pushed his hardened cock into my mouth. I wasn’t able to move my head much because tonight there was a collar locked around my throat, which was hooked into the chairback, but that didn’t slow E down one bit. He firmly held the sides of my head as he fucked my mouth, and his ruthless way was exactly how I imagined Clay would do it.

I was left struggling to catch my breath, a trail of saliva hanging from my lips as he retreated and picked up the vibrator. As soon as it made contact with my clit, its buzz sent pleasure pulsating through my center. It dragged a grateful moan from deep in my chest and got my orgasm back on track.

The basement wasn’t cold, but a shiver glanced down my spine. There hadn’t been any pain tonight. No stinging cracks from a paddle, or lines of fire created across my skin with the thin plastic cane Clay sometimes wanted used on me.

Dark anticipation welled in the bottom of my stomach.

He had something else planned, I just knew it. Clay didn’t give pleasure freely. I liked how he made me earn it. So, as the tingles of my approaching orgasm crawled along my skin, I held my breath and waited for the other shoe to drop.

The tension inside me grew until it was tight enough to snap.

“I’m gonna come,” I gasped.

“No, you’re not,” Clay growled. “Stop.”

A frustrated whine seeped out of my mouth as the vibrator was ripped away and its buzzing went silent. God, I’d been so close. I tried to shift and twist in my bindings, searching for something to press against. My ankles were attached to the bar by my feet and my knees were held open by another spreader bar that E had pulled from his bag of fun. It meant I couldn’t close my legs and squeeze against the pleasure humming in my body.

Clay’s smile was wicked as he watched me squirm against my restraints, and his voice was patronizing. “Did you need something?”

“Yeah, the vibrator back where it was.”

I was a half-second too late to correct myself. He wouldn’t like my tone, and E’s hand was quick to deliver my punishment. The pinch of his fingers on my nipple wasn’t all that bad, but he used his grasp to pull hard, lifting the weight of my breast away from my body. It was a delicious shot of pain. As soon as he let go, my breast snapped back, and he slapped his fingertips across my distended nipple.

It wasn’t cruel, but it wasn’t nice either, and I liked the way the discomfort ricocheted through me. I enjoyed it so much, I considered giving Clay some more lip so it’d force E to do it again.

“You don’t need the vibrator,” Clay’s tone was pointed, “you just want it.”

“Yes,” I said.

It was sexy and infuriating how he sat on the other side of the screen looking smug and powerful. “Well, that’s too bad.” He took off his glasses and proceeded to polish the lenses with the bottom hem of his shirt. “You had enough orgasms yesterday. I don’t think you need any more tonight.”

The word echoed through my head, but E said it out loud. “What?”

His eyes were wide and his posture stiff. It announced this wasn’t part of Clay’s plan—at least not the one E had been told, and he wasn’t too happy hearing about this change.

Clay slipped his glasses back on and gave a hard look to the man who was his surrogate, and—holy crap. This flex of power was just as much for him as it was for me. A few sessions in, I’d determined