Wildly Inappropriate Read Online Free PDF Page A

getting off. Men never really cared about that, no matter what they said, but hell would freeze before she'd fake it now. Not when she'd been so close. Cynda squeezed her eyes closed and bit the inside of her cheek in anger.
    A burst of pain in her nipple made her open them. He tossed the fork that had been dangling from her nipple onto the table, a pleased smile tilting his lips. She'd only thought it hurt when he thumped her clit, but when the blood rushed into the tender bud, she nearly passed out. The pain doubled as he undid the makeshift clamps from her other peak.
    Her entire world went dark when he removed the fork that had been squeezing her clit. Thank God, he removed the bindings from her wrists and helped her turn. Cynda felt his strong hands under her shoulders. She hovered on the edge of consciousness, grabbing the front of his shirt.
    He sucked one flaming point into his mouth, soothing it with his tongue. She felt him slide his fingers inside her, the tips rasping against the same delicious spot he'd found with the huge, odd-looking fork. His two fingers were larger than the metal piece and she rode them greedily, thrusting her pussy repeatedly onto his invading fingers. Her hips arched. The kitchen dissolved into shards of color and darkness. Cynda came harder than she ever had in her life when his palm made hard contact with her abused clit. He wouldn't allow her to stop the crazy pleasure-ride, still thrusting roughly into her over and over. His lips tugged at one throbbing nipple, then the other.
    When he finally raised his head and removed his fingers Cynda couldn't stop her contractions. She could only stare helplessly into his intent eyes while her body convulsed again and again. She began to think he willed her to come with his look alone. He pressed the heel of his large hand against her mound, his fingers momentarily cupping her sex while their gazes locked. He began drumming one finger softly against her clit. The tiny slaps seemed to vibrate inside her, setting off new waves of pleasure.
    Tears spilled, running down her cheeks. She writhed in his arms, trying to ride out the unfamiliar ecstasy rolling through her body like thunder.
    "God, you're fucking incredible, Cynda. So damn responsive," he growled in a ragged voice as he tapped at the tender bud, the gentle strikes subsiding at last into a soft massage.
    Cynda felt so wrung out she could have slept right there on the kitchen table. She was certain he was about to shove the erection she saw had pushed above the opening in his jeans into her mouth and ruin this for her, but he lowered her shoulders to the table and stepped away.
    He returned with a wet cloth. She was past any kind of shame, obediently allowing him to open her thighs. The warm rag felt good stroking her vibrating slit. His strokes with the cloth seemed almost tender. She closed her eyes when he lowered her to the table and moved across the kitchen, but curiosity made her open them again.
    Leaning against the end of bar, he crossed his arms over his chest and raised his brows. "Still want two weeks of my time?"

Chapter Four
     
    He carried her to the bathroom and told her to take her time getting herself together, but by the time she washed up and came out, he was nowhere to be seen. Neither were her clothes. Cynda clutched the small towel to her tender breasts and looked curiously around the house. It was easy to see most of the downstairs from outside the bathroom door, since walls in the hallway had been taken down, replaced with square columns which seemed to soar to the arched ceiling that had to be fifteen feet high at the peak.
    Grams had worked for fifty years in the same cotton mill. Cynda had sat proudly at her grandmother's side at the retirement luncheon held at the mill foreman's house. That had been the fanciest private home she'd ever been inside until this one. A fine coat of dust covered an elaborate oak hall tree, even clinging to the mirror. Spider webs wove