Claiming Magique: 1 Read Online Free PDF

Magique shouting “No, stop!” would get him to do so.
    She said nothing, couldn’t, not with
his tongue filling her mouth. If anything, she sucked
him even harder, grinding her cunt against him, wanting him as deep as
possible.
    Wanting it
rough too.
    He sensed it in the way she returned
his kisses, how she kept tugging on the tie, trying to be free. So she could do
what? Rake his shoulders with her nails? Hold him even closer?
    Hunt wasn’t about to put any
distance between them. Again and again, he thrust, plowing into her, giving
neither of them rest. With each of his pumps, he pushed her into the post, his
arm protecting her back. The bed frame jerked, its legs scraping the floor.
Within minutes, their bodies were damp with perspiration, their scents mingled,
just the way he liked. Her cunt narrowed even more, creating greater friction
between them, her sheath slick with her excitement.
    Her wanting
of him.
    That guileless acceptance stoked his
desire. She pressed her elbows into his shoulders. He tightened his arm around
her waist and moved his other hand between their bodies to her clit, finally
remembering to tend to it. Hunt stroked her hard as he plunged into her
repeatedly, dazed at her narrow channel, its incomparable heat.
    They came within seconds of each
other. Pulling her mouth from his, she lifted her face to the ceiling, the ends
of her hair tickling his arm and hand. Indelicately, she moaned. Less
restrained, he bellowed as too many sensations slammed into him—excitement, contentment,
pure fucking satisfaction—ending at last on a hearty growl.
    It took both of them a moment to
come down.
    Breathing hard, Hunt rested his head
against her shoulder and grinned. Whether she felt his joy was debatable.
However, she did start to giggle, which soon turned into a contented laugh.
    “Wow,” he whispered.
    She pressed her face into his hair,
rubbing her nose against it. Marking him or smelling him, Hunt had no idea. Nor
did he care. Having her so close was enough. Despite his fatigue, he wasn’t
going to let go. He locked his knees, gritted his teeth and hoped he wouldn’t
collapse.
    Too quickly, her sheath stopped
pulsing around his weary cock, the last of her orgasm fading away. Crap.
    She inhaled deeply and worked her
inner muscles around his shaft.
    Smiling, Hunt hugged her to show his
gratitude. “Just give me a few secs ,” he whispered,
“and I’ll be ready to go again.”
    Her cunt’s contractions slowed, then stopped. She murmured, “No. It’s time for your
friends.”
    Hunt’s skin went cold, then hot, his tender caress forgotten. It was time for his
friends? As if what she and he had just done meant nothing?
    Are you nuts? Of course, it didn’t hold any earth-shattering significance.
They weren’t on a date. She was a call girl. Here to see to her clients’ needs,
of which he was only one.
    Tim was already untying her wrists.
    With too much grace, and what
appeared to be no regret, she slid down Hunt’s body, releasing his cock from
her wonderfully heated cunt. The room’s mild temperature felt cold in comparison
against his skin. The only consolation was the way she placed her hand on Tim’s
chest, stopping him from pulling her onto the bed.
    All business, she said, “I want you
on the mattress.” She raked his chest with her nails, a teasing, provocative move. “Please.”
    Her please did it. Tim was a good little boy, lying
spread-eagle on the shimmery beige comforter.
    She went to the nightstand and took
several tissues from the mother-of-pearl box resting on top. So what was she
going to do with them?
    What else? She used the tissues to
blot Hunt’s ejaculate from her pussy.
    His jaw clenched. Tim grinned as
though that pleased him.
    Magique’s expression remained open yet neutral, her real thoughts
hidden. “Scoot to the left,” she requested, directing him with her finger.
    Not budging, Tim put his hands
behind his head. The muscles in his arms bunched. The hair in