Defending Pacer - Hamilton T. J. (читать книги онлайн бесплатно без сокращение бесплатно txt) 📗

As he moves farther up, he gets to the gap between my legs. Jostling his nose up against my underwear, he inhales again.

Oh my God, I feel leather on my clit and start seeing stars. The coldness catches me by surprise but that feeling is quickly taken over by a desire for more. My hips grind against his hand. I need him in there. Now!

He growls a deep groan and he stands up and shoves me back against the wall as his tongue practically hits the back of my throat.

Oh. My. God.

His hands find mine, and he takes my wrists and brings them up above my head, securing them there with one strong, leather-gloved grip.

His other hand slides down my body, pulling my bra down and popping my hardened nipples from my bra as they pass. His lips leave mine as they trail down to my chest. He sucks on the first nipple, and a moan escapes me. When he cups the bottom of my second breast and finds my other nipple with his tongue, I moan even loader. His leather glove slides past my stomach and slips into my underwear. I’m up on tippy-toes, my pelvis naturally tilting, my entire body pleading to have his leather finger inside me. I need that cold sensation to hit me inside. I want to warm it with my internal walls. I want it to warm me with friction. I can only imagine how incredible that will feel.

His dark brown eyes are back on mine and he watches me while his finger rolls in circles around my clit. He pulls his hand from my underwear and puts a finger into his mouth. I think he’s being sexy, until he bites down and I realise that he’s taking his glove off.

Oh no you don’t! I want that glove.

“Keep it on,” I murmur between breaths.

His smirk is sexy as hell. God knows what he must be thinking about my sudden leather fetish, but I don’t give a fuck right now. I want his gloved finger in me. Right fucking now!

His finger quickly finds its way back into my panties and my legs automatically spread for him. His finger enters, the leather gently catching against my entrance as he slides in. The leather feels cold against me but the smoothness of it feels heavenly. His tongue enters my mouth in one swift motion—anything beyond that has no bearing.

It’s Pacer’s tongue and Pacer’s leather gloved finger … inside me … and that’s all that matters.

My head drains of blood and my legs almost give out, but Pacer’s grip underneath me holds me up perfectly. He begins rocking his palm back and forth, his finger deep within me. Leather slides across my clit when his palm passes it, and I cry out louder again. The leather occasionally catches my skin when it rubs and causes an exquisite friction when it slides —I’ve never felt anything like it.

He squeezes against my upstretched wrists with his other hand, almost demanding me to stay still. But I don’t think I can. I feel dizzy, and all I’m seeing is stars.

I kiss him harder to avoid losing all control over my body. His lips leave mine and he buries into my neck, sucking and biting at my skin.

The sensations that spill out across my body are all too much to contain, and I cry out as the stars are no longer stars, they’re one big wash of bright, white light. My pussy clamps down hard on the leather finger inside me, and my pelvis rocks against the rhythm of his palm.

My ass cheeks clench. I moan and pant, and groan, and make sounds I never knew I had in me as my orgasm becomes overwhelming.

My arms slip from above, but he forces them back up with one hand as his finger drives in and out harder and faster.

Just when I thought my climax was subsiding, a second wash of heat floods my head.

Holy sweet baby Jesus and all things pure in the world … Fuck you and fuck everything. If this is bad, then I’ll take hell.

“That’s it, honeybee. Come all over my glove, you fucking sexy bitch,” he coos into my neck.

It’s too much. I can’t even. My legs shudder and he lifts me with his cupped hand. I cry out so loud I swear my voice box is about to break.

His finger slows when he’s satisfied that he’s done his job. My breathing regulates … almost. Well, I’m not panting, at least.

Slowly opening my eyes, I find Pacer staring, watching me. I take a deep breath and smile sheepishly. If that’s what he does to me with his finger, I can’t imagine what his python is going to do.

“Wow,” I repeat his words after our first kiss.

He grin is so wide it’s infectious. I can’t help but chuckle.

His finger slowly slips out of me. He raises it to his mouth and sucks back.

What the hell have I been missing out on? No guys like this actually exist. I’ve heard about men like Pacer. He’s that one amazingly hot specimen of a man who also happens to be a magician. They cast some magical spell over you with the touch of their finger … their leather finger. They’re also an urban myth. The men I have been with have all confirmed this fantasy wasn’t real … until Pacer.

His hold finally loosens on my upstretched hands, and they fall to his shoulders and slide down his chest. His button-less shirt is still on. That situation needs to change immediately, so I slide it past his shoulders. The detailed ink covering his body is even more beautiful than the photographs I’ve studied for the past week. I hope he never finds out how obsessed I may be with him. That fleeting thought reminds me to take down the wall of photos I have, in case he makes and impromptu visit to my place.

I smooth his shirt down his arms, slowly running it over his rolling muscles. My fingertips roll across the ridges with pure delight.

He pulls back from the wall and carries me down a narrow hallway. We kiss as he carries me, and I notice the house smells different —new and un-lived in. His shoes echo across the hard floor. It doesn’t sound like the hollow of wood though.

My mouth doesn’t leave his for a single second. He’s so familiar with this house, he finds the way around without a single break in our kiss.

The prospect of fucking more than just his finger is spinning me into another bout of rolling, vibrating soon-to-be waves of pleasure.

He is a fucking magician.

My wet underwear bounces against his jeans as he walks. I feel that python in there, buddy. I want it so bad. At this point I don’t care which part of me gets it first—I just need it.

His footsteps sound different as his feet hit a new texture to the flooring. It smells different, too. It smells warmer. It smells like a bedroom. I open my eyes and confirm it. There’s something about a bedroom—you can always feel a space that’s a sacred place for intimate moments.

I don’t feel as if I need to flinch when Pacer falls onto the bed—I feel safe in his arms. My back gently lands on the softness of a matress, but Pacer takes the majority of the impact while I’m cocooned in his arms. So. Fucking. Hot.

His kisses don’t subside for a nanosecond. They’re dominating. I want to taste him—I need to take over.

Flipping him over on the bed, I take him by surprise. He chuckles.

“I hope you’re not laughing at me?” I pull his wrists up above his head.

He nips at my chin, but I pull away, and he misses. His teeth chomp together. The sound makes me smirk. Our roles have swapped and I’ve taken the lead, but only because he’s let me … and I know it. In fact, I love it.

I warn him, to counter not being able to secure his hands like he did me. “If you move your hands, I’ll stop.” Maybe I need to take extra steps in making sure I’ve secured him? Next time … yes, there will be a next time. I already know it. It won’t stop after this moment together.

He doesn’t respond to my direction, and I take that as a green light to move myself across his body, however I want.

What I want is to head south.

His lower abs tense as I inch closer to the elastic of his underwear. I tunnel under his pants and run my fingers past his shaft. I glance down and see that he makes my hands look tiny. Holy shit. I knew it.