The Architect (Nashville Neighborhood Book 3) by Nikki Sloane (freda ebook reader .txt) 📕

locked around me to hold me in place. There were grunts and strained moans from behind as I rode out my orgasm on him, my whole body trembling. It sounded like he was holding back, but then gave in. I was still coming when he shoved me forward, face-down onto the tabletop. I caught myself on my forearms, but my cheek pressed to the soft leather.

Since everyone else was coming, E must have decided to join in.

His hands captured my hips, and he rutted into me, ruthless and primal. As if he were a man driven to the edge of madness and he no longer cared what he was supposed to do. There was no right or wrong, no desire anymore to stay within the rules. He pumped furiously, and his thrusts wracked my body.

God, I loved it. He’d given me so much pleasure, he earned the right to take some of his own. To use me however he needed. A few more powerful thrusts, and then he pulled out. Onscreen, I saw how he moved to yank the condom off and hurl it to the ground, then lifted on his knees so he was perched over me, his fist sliding back and forth over his dick.

He came in sputtering bursts, and the hot liquid flicked onto my back and my ass. It dripped from his tip as his hand slowed, wringing the last of his orgasm from his body while his chest heaved for air.

The way he looked at me when he came? So undeniably sexy, it rivaled watching Clay.

In the aftermath of our joint climax, no one moved.

One breath at a time, I came down from my high and began to return to reality. My back was wet, my legs were sore, and it was uncomfortable with my hands pinned beneath my body, but I stayed still. I expected a command from Clay at any moment, but he just gazed at me with a dreamy stare.

It was so nice, the floaty feeling from earlier returned and a shy smile warmed my lips. What we’d done was wild, and I was in awe of him. How willing he was to share and trust. That he’d given me a fantasy and gotten off on it just like I had.

E’s hands were damp, and when something cold wiped over me, I flinched. I’d been so out of it, I hadn’t realized he’d climbed down, cleaned up in the bathroom nearby, and returned with a damp hand towel. It glided over my skin in soothing strokes, and he took extra care on the lower half of my body.

I’d only heard E speak a handful of times, but his voice was deeper than before. “Are you all right?”

Clay cleared his throat, the sound loud and angry. It was his reminder to E about the rules, and E shot him the briefest of irritated looks before bending over to retrieve his underwear and pull it on.

“How are you feeling?” Clay asked.

I rolled onto my side to face the camera. “I’m good, but . . .” I lifted my bound hands.

He nodded. E understood, too, how I wanted to be untied, because he moved to the side of the table, took hold of my shoulders, and helped me sit up. Luckily, as long as I didn’t move and my skin stayed as it was on the leather, it didn’t hurt. His broad back blocked my view of the screen, so there was nothing to look at except the bead of sweat erratically trailing down his toned chest as he began to work on the knots at my wrists.

It had been sexy and provocative when he’d tied me up, but I wasn’t prepared for how sensual the process would be as he undid his work. Skilled and methodical, his fingers loosened the knots and unwound the rope, and since he was focused on that, it gave me a chance to really look at him.

His deep-set eyes were sharp and inquisitive, hinting at his intelligence. What did he do for a living? His hands were gentle now, but he’d been rough with me earlier. His smile could be brilliant, or his expression contemplative, like he could be whatever he wanted. Maybe he was an entertainer. A lot of folks in Nashville were in the music industry—the woman who lived next door to Dr. Lowe was some bigwig agent.

When E began to unwrap the rope from around my neck, his gaze met mine, and I swallowed a breath. He looked at me like I was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen, and it was incredibly powerful.

Like last time, he leaned in close, and it was unstoppable the way I craved the heat of him. I lifted my chin, jutted out my chest, making my nipples brush against his warm skin. It caused him to let out the softest sigh of contentment, and it made me even bolder. I didn’t know what was allowed, but since I couldn’t see Clay, it meant he couldn’t see me, so I flattened my hands to E’s chest.

He stiffened, but I got the feeling it wasn’t from my touch . . . like me, he wasn’t sure if this was allowed. But it was clear he wanted this. His eyes went hazy as I dragged my hands down, trailing fingertips over the ridges of his defined abdomen.

It was a stolen moment between us, because once more, Clay cleared his throat. In response, E shifted to one side and finished undoing the ropes, and now the phone screen was visible again. Clay was relieved to see me, and guilt flashed through me. He’d given me this gift. An amazing experience with someone other than himself, plus an enormous amount of trust. The least I could do was think about him and not the man at my side.

The rope fell to the floor, and my hands were free, and I marveled at the indentations left from the thick cord. It was a gorgeous pattern—like woven bracelets tattooed across