Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 162003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 810(@200wpm)___ 648(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 810(@200wpm)___ 648(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
He leaned down and brushed his lips against my cheek, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying not feel anything. I wanted to stay numb or angry because that’s what I thought I should feel.
“Until then…”
His footsteps carried him from the room with a soft click of the door behind him. I waited a full minute until I removed the blindfold. There, on the table beside me were two dozen blood-red lotus flowers.
Chapter Eight
“Brighton?”
I glanced up at Nicole, who was staring at my untouched cereal in front of me. I didn’t know how long it had sat there, but it was soggy now.
“Are you okay? You’ve been acting really strange the last few days.”
I snorted because she was one to talk. Her face had been a little pale the last few days, and after our encounter the other night, she’d hardly said two words to me. It didn’t bother me since my mind was otherwise preoccupied, but I did wonder why our friendship had become so tense.
“I’m okay.” I gave her a weak smile as I stood and scraped the contents of my bowl into the garbage. “I just have some family stuff going on.”
It was a lie, but I was sure she would believe it. She never shared anything too personal, and it worked for us. The last thing I wanted was someone asking questions about my family.
Her cell phone rang, and she frowned before hitting ignore. Something else she’d been doing a lot lately. My curiosity got the best of me as she walked back to the coffee maker, and a quick glance at the name surprised me. Ryland was calling her, and the fact that she chose to ignore him made me wonder if there was something more going on between them. I tried to swallow the sudden bitterness that coated my tongue as I walked to my room.
I didn’t have any claim on him, of course. It was ridiculous for me to feel any jealousy at all. A man of his caliber would most certainly never date a girl like me, and even if he wanted to, I couldn’t. I had my blackmailer to deal with now, and it would be that way for the foreseeable future. I made myself a promise right then that I was going to stop thinking about Ryland Bennett.
Today was Thursday, which meant I had something more important to worry about. Something dark and terrifying waiting for me inside a hotel room. He had promised me punishment, and I didn’t doubt I would be receiving it. But what he planned to dish out, I had no clue.
Almost as if on cue, my cell phone chirped.
Send me a photo of one of the marks I left on you.
I swallowed as I glanced at my reflection in the mirror, my fingers tracing over the fading marks on my shoulder. Whenever I looked at his brands on my body over the last two days, something strange happened. Even now, my heart beat violently in my chest. My skin was hot and flushed, but I couldn’t understand why. I should have been furious. Repulsed. Disgusted. Horrified. But I was none of those things.
His brand of kink was marking me in every possible way he could think of. At first, I’d assumed it was a cruel way to remind me I belonged to him, but now his request made me think otherwise. He was the one who wanted the reminder.
I didn’t know this man. I had no idea what he looked like, other than that he was solid and strong. He was a complete stranger, and yet it seemed he knew my body intimately. As though he knew things about me that even I didn’t. Things I would like. Things that I shouldn’t.
The thought was disturbing on a level I couldn’t even process. But once I’d gotten over my shame in that hotel room, I realized something. Shame couldn’t have a place inside of me if there wasn’t a part of me that had enjoyed it. Enjoyed the terrible things he did to me. What kind of person did that make me?
I closed my eyes and let out a shaky breath, and the phone chimed again.
Don’t make me ask twice, Brighton.
I snatched it up with a glare and turned on the camera, angling it towards my shoulder. No way was I sending him the one he’d left on my inner thigh. I sent the text through and tossed the phone on my bed, resolved not to think about it for the rest of the day.
When I walked to my closet, I chose an outfit that reflected my mood. Black. The dress was a size too large and sort of resembled a paper bag. It had cost me five dollars on a bargain rack three years ago, and it had well and truly seen better days. But I took pleasure in wearing the most unappealing thing I owned. He didn’t deserve my primping.