The Architect (Nashville Neighborhood Book 3) by Nikki Sloane (top e book reader .TXT) 📗

my head spin at how it hurt—yet it turned me on. The delicious misery primed the rest of my body as easily as flipping a switch.

I was breathing heavy as E stood and moved to his bag on the workbench, and pride flooded my center as I caught sight of the bulge pressing against the fly of his jeans. He was just as turned on as everyone else in this scene.

The black Velcro strap he retrieved was cinched around my waist, plus the back of the chair, lashing me in place. To test it, E tugged at a clamp and pulled it free. The pain stormed in, but no matter how I tried to squirm, I could barely move.

He’d looked unsure before we’d begun, but that emotion was gone. As he watched me unsuccessfully attempt to wriggle away, power flared in his eyes and his palm drifted down to his erection, squeezing himself through the denim.

Fuck, it was hot.

The pain from him removing one clamp was still fading when he loomed over me and his fingers toyed with the ends of the other. Chemicals pumped through my system, urged along by my galloping heart, and my legs trembled with apprehension. I understood what was in store for me once the clamp came off, and I dreaded it, but also wanted relief from the ache it was currently causing.

He tugged the biting metal piece off, and I slammed my eyes shut, burying my face as best I could in the side of my arm. It throbbed like I’d been hit with a hammer, and I breathed through each pulse, drinking in air in slow, measured sips.

When I finished evening myself out, I opened my eyes and found both men staring at me like statues. Was it concern for me that had made them go motionless? Because if so, there was no need. In the absence of pain, I became warm and tingly, and a dazed smile spread across my lips. It felt similar to a post-orgasm high. Like everything was dreamy and happy.

E returned slowly to life, pulled the velvet bag from his back pocket, and dumped the magnets into his palm.

My tone was teasing, but my voice sounded far away. “What are you planning to do with those?”

His expression was an enigma, but Clay’s was pleased, and his fist resumed its unhurried strokes along the length of his hard cock. The way he twisted his grip from his tip down to the base and then back up again was hypnotic and distracting. I wasn’t aware E had separated the magnets and held one in each hand until he leaned in.

I sobered and my eyes widened when he placed a silver ball on either side of my nipple and then let go. The pull between the magnets was strong. It was a more intense squeeze than the clamp, and I set my jaw. This ache was acute enough that I sucked in shallow breaths as he prepared to place a second pair of magnets on my other nipple.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be able to take it,” I whispered.

It was like I’d just told Clay the sexiest thing ever. He pushed up his glasses, and his eyes glittered behind the lenses. “I know it hurts,” his tone was reassuring, “but it feels good too, doesn’t it? Like a good pain?”

When E finished setting the magnets, it was too overwhelming to find words. Even thoughts were difficult, but I managed a short nod. Clay was right, though. It was a good pain, and when E straightened, I got a glance of myself on the screen.

The small silver balls gleamed like piercings.

And I fucking loved the way they looked.

Clay’s tone was deceptively nonchalant, like it was just that simple. “I’ll take them off as soon as you come.”

My discomfort turned my mind into a void, making plenty of room for the men to fill it. The pain and pleasure they created were all that existed, and I eagerly focused on E as he knelt in front of me. His hands roamed over my body, teasing and enjoying how I shifted mindlessly within my restraints.

It was clear I wasn’t the only one who liked how my tits looked with the magnets pinching my pink skin. He squeezed one of my breasts, plumping my skin between his fingers, and the air in the room thickened.

“Do you want my mouth or my fingers?”

Clay asked the question, but I’d been focused on E, and it reinforced the feeling they were the same. Two different bodies, but one purpose. The fingers and mouth physically belonged to E, but they operated under Clay’s direction.

“Both,” I breathed.

Because I needed to come, and that would be the fastest way to get there.

Clay chuckled. “Greedy.”

E dragged his hands down my stomach as he settled in on his knees, getting comfortable. His palms smoothed along the insides of my thighs, pushing my legs wider. He already had enough room—he’d done it to exert control. Didn’t he know that was unnecessary? He had complete rule over me.

His gaze stayed locked on mine as he lowered his mouth to my pussy, and electricity jolted up my legs. I moaned in relief while his tongue fluttered, and I gasped in satisfaction when two thick fingers speared into me. He pulsed them deep and rough, and the fracture inside me widened. Everything hurt yet also felt like bliss, and the conflicting emotions threatened to burn me to ash.

There was a faint edge of concern in Clay’s words. “Are you about to come?”

I was panting and had to force it out. “Oh, God, yes.”

“Stop. It’s too soon.”

E froze, and I gawked at the camera, both confused and irritated. “But you said you’d take them off when—”

“Slow her down.”

My heart flipped upside-down because Clay’s order to stop wasn’t for me. It was for the man on his knees, and I whined with frustration when E followed the command. Both his mouth and fingers retreated, leaving me right on