Nurturing Britney (Surrender Book 7) by Becca Jameson (best books to read fiction .TXT) 📗

kiss her like it’s the last time I’m ever going to see her. I kiss her with all the passion that’s been building in me from the moment I saw her small frame sleeping in her car. I reach for her hands, thread my fingers with hers, and press them into the pillow to emphasize my possession.

She gives me this and so much more. Her sighs are music. Every noise she makes stirs my cock further.

When I break the kiss, knowing she needs oxygen, I lower my mouth to reverently kiss both her nipples. I resist suckling them for now, but I need to at least feel the pointed tips against my lips.

I slowly lift off her, pull her nightie down to her belly, and ease her legs back together. I rise to tug the covers over her and then massage her arms as I move them from above her head to down over the covers. I find Bunny and snuggle the stuffed animal in with her owner.

She watches me this entire time. When I’m satisfied that she’s comfortable, I lean over and kiss her forehead.

“Thank you, Sir.” There’s a lilt in her voice.

I meet her gaze, chuckling.

“You can add that one to my tally marks.”

“Oh, I will, sweetie. Count on it.” I cup her face. “Sleep now. I’ll leave your door ajar so I can hear you, okay?”

“Yes, Sir.” The term of reverence slides off her tongue so easily that I want to yank the covers back down, damn the consequences.

I don’t though. I find the willpower to leave her room. I even manage to make it to my own room and into my bathroom before my knees threaten to buckle. I lock the door, yank my pants down to my thighs, and grip my cock. It takes about three thrusts before I come all over the bathroom floor.

The release is incomplete. My cock craves far more than my hand. As if it personally is aware of the hot, willing woman lying in the next room.

It takes me a few minutes to catch my breath and clean up my mess, and then I turn off the lights and slide into my bed. I’m still gasping for oxygen, and I don’t know how long it takes before I finally fall asleep, but the vision behind my eyes is of the sweet girl in the next room, snuggled with her bunny, her expression one of ecstasy.

Chapter 14

Britney

When I wake up to sun pouring around the edges of the blinds, it takes me far less time to remember where I am than it did yesterday, and then moments later the details of my life all flood back into my mind.

It’s almost too much to process. The sexiest, kindest, loveliest man I’ve ever encountered gave me the best orgasm of my life last night. Best day ever.

Countering that is the unavoidable fact that my former boss is trying to sell me, and he will if he can get his hands on me. If only I could ignore that detail. Of course, that event is what led me to Davis in the first place, so it’s hard to prefer it had never happened.

I’m safe. My boss can’t find me. Davis is not going to kick me out anytime soon.

As I push to sitting, I stop breathing as another memory rushes in. Did Davis claim me in some primal way last night? He did. He made it very clear that every inch of me was his. What does that even mean to him?

I shudder as I rise from the bed and then turn around to quickly make it before padding to the bathroom. I don’t care what it means to be his. He’s not wrong. He owns me. Every inch of me. I don’t care that he’s so bossy and dominant that he likes me to call him Sir when he touches me. I’d drop to my knees if I thought it would please him.

I freeze in front of the bathroom mirror and bring my palm to my forehead. Duh. How naïve could I possibly be? Davis is a Dominant. Like BDSM. Like someone from the fetish community. How did I not realize this sooner?

Do I care? Not really. It’s hot. He’s so…bossy, and I love it. I don’t know what all he expects from his women, but now I understand better why he keeps putting me off and insinuating there are things about him I don’t know. He’s a Dom.

At least I understand now. I might need to do a bit of research to fully grasp what’s expected of me, but I’m willing to go down that path, especially if it means Davis will be pleased with me and want to take me completely next time.

After using the toilet, brushing my teeth and hair, and washing my face, I finally let my gaze roam to the clothing on the counter.

Pink.

I smile. Of course, it’s pink.

I lift the dress from the vanity and hold it up. The material isn’t the soft cotton of yesterday’s dress, the one I’d bought from a thrift store, but it’s obviously expensive and well-made. I finger the row of tiny white roses along the V-neck and smile. It’s dainty and sweet and pure and everything I never had growing up.

I set it down to grab the panties first, noticing they are also pink with a tiny white bow in the center. I feel very feminine when I pull them up my legs, and then I sigh as I slide the dress over my head.

Once again there is no bra, but the spaghetti straps of this dress like the other one would require a strapless bra. That’s not been provided either.

The row of tiny white roses dips between my breasts. From there begins the pleated pink material that flows out wider until it ends a few inches below my butt.

I spin around to look at myself in the mirror on the back of the door. It’s so revealing. Sexy. Also