Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 63555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
I send Lancelot a text apologizing, telling him I won’t be able to make it tonight. He sends one back immediately saying he’ll miss me but not to worry about it. I’m sure he has a line of submissives waiting for the chance to experience his flogging expertise.
The thought makes me bitter. If it weren’t for Nathaniel Black IV, then I would be excitedly awaiting my Dom’s arrival inside the club. Instead, I’m putting my car in reverse, backing out of the parking space, and heading home to see just how thoroughly Nate plans to ruin my life.
Chapter 5
Nate
Seeing her exit the parking garage, I pull away from the curb and fall in line behind her, no longer needing to keep a distance and make sure my presence stays hidden. She knows I’m following her, back to her house, back to where she spends her nights after she gets off work every day after I’ve spent an hour making her squirm.
Does she think of me once she gets home? Does she obsess over me the way I do her, never escaping my face even when I’m not around? Does she think of me when she lets those other men… do things to her, things that make her come over and over again?
My hands tighten on the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white, and my nostrils flare with rage and jealousy. It’s ridiculous, I know, to be jealous over Evelyn being with other guys when I’ve been with just as many if not more girls. What’s fucking me up is imagining this new reality, when I’d thought she was so innocent, pure, even virginal. How many times had I thought about taking her virginity while I’d fucked my fist? How many times had I pictured pulling out of her and seeing my cum mixed with her blood? Now I know that will never happen, and instead, Ms. Richards is….
No, I refuse to think of her as a freak. She’s no more a freak than I am. She just obviously has needs that have to be fulfilled in a not-so-traditional way. A way that seems to be the opposite of mine, and the perfect match at the same time. She desires to be mastered? To submit and give herself over to someone and allow them to bring pleasure to her willing body repeatedly… until she can barely walk?
She’s exactly what I never knew I could even dream of. Someone who would take my dominance happily, want it, crave it, get off on it over and over.
But I’ve never let that side of me loose before.
She’s part of a club where… experts? Professionals? I mean, they spoke of a guy they called Master. And they said it with no type of humor or sarcasm in their voices. He was someone they respected, admired, wanted to be under. I’ve never even allowed myself to be rough with a girl, afraid I’d hurt her, not wanting to let the monster I keep trapped inside me escape and wreak havoc, even though every urge inside me had been to give myself over to it.
And the last person I’d ever want to hurt is Evelyn. I may love fucking with her with every fiber of my being. She makes me feel things I don’t understand when she squirms and cowers. But I’d never physically bring her harm. I’d die before doing that. I’d kill before allowing anyone else to either.
But what if she likes the pain? The woman at the club said she enjoyed watching Evelyn’s “scene” involving a bullwhip. I’m not sure what a scene is exactly, but a fucking bullwhip? There’s no way a goddamn bullwhip could bring anything but excruciating pain to Ms. Richards’s soft, smooth, perfect, and delicate flesh. Flesh I finally allowed myself to feel as I stroked her beautiful face, and then as I wiped away the lone tear she shed. Does she have scars hidden beneath those prim and proper clothes she wears at school?
No. No, I saw nearly every inch of her supple skin. The image of her standing there in that dark-blue lace underwear will be seared into my mind and spank bank until the day I die. She is a prudish, nerdy librarian by day, and a walking wet dream by night. And now my brain scrambles to come up with a plan. What will I say to her when we’re back at her place?
“You could ruin my life,” she whimpered. And it tugged at my heart I didn’t even know I had. The fear and sadness in her voice, and the actual words she said. I’d murder anyone who’d even think to try to bring ruin to her life, but she doesn’t need to know that. If she believes that about me, then that means she’ll do what I want. She’ll willingly do as I say if she continues to think I’ll hold her secret over her head, ready to drop it at the first sign of her disobedience. But that’ll never happen. I’ll never do anything to hurt her—at least, nothing she doesn’t beg for.