Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97229 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97229 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
You can no longer pleasure yourself. Your body belongs to me.
I nodded in the darkness, accepting my fate. And somehow, I knew my soul belonged to him too.
Chapter Six
My bottom lip was sore and a little bit swollen when I woke up, but it was nothing too obvious. Hans was right. Nobody would notice the blood-red kiss he’d blessed my mouth with.
The red raw teeth marks on my tits were a different story, though. My flesh was wounded deep and bruised, but it didn’t freak me out as I stared at the aftermath in the mirror. I ran my fingers over the marks and felt a strange rush of pride for taking the pain. So many fantasies over so many nights, come to life. I could only imagine the beauty of every other fantasy Hans had the power to make come true.
I put on my dressing gown and wrapped it up tight, making sure my tits were well hidden before I went downstairs. I needn’t have worried of course, since as per usual the other housemates were all out. Not a soul in sight.
Once again, I wished I had someone to share my stories with. A friend. A family member. Someone close that my mother and grandmother had always failed to be. I didn’t have any extended family. I’d never known my father, and my poor grandfather had died when I was just a baby in arms, and there were no aunties, uncles or cousins to share my life with.
Maybe Hans could be everything, all in one? It was a stupidly optimistic thought that should’ve seemed crazy but didn’t. How could anything about my fantasies possibly feel crazy anymore? I just needed… someone.
Him.
I made myself breakfast. Porridge with plenty of sugar, followed by toast. I tried to relax and let my strength come back to me, lying in bed through the afternoon, watching Buffy reruns on my laptop with a whole new perspective. It was when Spike slammed Buffy against the wall and she wrapped her legs around him that my hand dared snake into my dressing gown. It had been a shocker at the time. Spike was actually fucking her. And damn those kisses were hot. Blood-red kisses. My hand froze just an inch from my pussy, once again gripped like a vice.
Damnit.
I now knew what it felt like to be the victim of a blood-red kiss. I knew what it felt like to have a vampire’s fangs sinking into my skin. I knew how it felt, being a vessel of flesh they were taking their life from.
I knew how it felt to be… owned.
Knew how it felt when your heart ached for someone. I simply couldn’t wait to see him again. To kiss him again. To give myself to him.
If only I could play with myself thinking about it. But no. Definitely not. My hand wouldn’t budge.
I was feeling a little more steady by the time I showered and got ready for work. My bra was sore over my bite wounds, and my blouse felt starchy as it rubbed my skin, but I liked it. The pain was a constant reminder of what Hans had taken from me.
I wasn’t afraid of the cobblestones when I walked through Hyde Street that evening. I was grinning all the way.
My smile was still bright on my face when I stepped into the staffroom and hung up my coat on the rack. I felt surprisingly confident when I pushed my way through the door into the bar to find Eliza there, busy at work. Confidence wasn’t something I was usually blessed with.
She turned to me when she was done serving Richard Scott, and her eyebrows raised up high.
“I expected you to be calling in sick today.” She looked me up and down, still in disbelief. “You look well recovered, though.”
I nodded. “I feel much better today, thanks.”
She was still staring at me.
“Actually, you look absolutely bloody amazing,” she said out of the blue.
Her compliment gave me a flush. Her expression was so genuine but so confused, as though she was staring at an entirely different person than the one she’d come to know.
I was the same girl with the same dark hair wrapped up tight in the same neat bun, wearing the same neutral gloss lipstick, in the same crisp white uniform, but I didn’t feel like it. Not one bit.
“Thanks,” I said, burning up so bad that I was grateful for the distraction as clients came up for drinks.
I served Kristoff and Edward with a happy smile, and then I walked over to George, who was sitting at the side of the bar. It was great to see him there.
“Thank you, George,” I whispered. “For last night. I really appreciate it.”
“Appreciate what, exactly?” he asked.
I gave him a grin. “You know. For fixing things.”