Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 115400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
I swallow hard and nod, nerves blooming through me once again. I don’t doubt him for one second.
Unable to hold his stare a second longer, I drop my gaze to the open living space, glancing around in wonder. Though it’s not quite as enjoyable as it could be with my present company. “Might I ask what will be required of me?” I question as his movement across the room draws my attention.
He approaches a small table, and I watch as he fills a glass of whiskey and lifts it to his lips. He turns back to me, and his gaze darkens as he takes me in, reminding me that I have absolutely no idea how he intends to use me. “I have but one requirement,” he says, that accent so damn smooth. “That you cater to my every will and desire. When I eat, you eat. When I call for you, you come. And when I eat your pussy, you scream like you will never feel pleasure again.”
Holy fuck.
My breath catches in my throat, and I watch as that lethal stare drags over my body, every last hair standing on end. He strides toward me, stopping right in front of me, so damn close I feel his whiskey breath dancing upon my skin.
He holds my stare as my legs involuntarily clench, the thought of this powerful man between my thighs unnerving me. I shouldn’t want that, but the way those words so effortlessly rolled off his tongue has ignited something inside of me that I can’t refuse.
This is wrong. So damn wrong. He’s my captor, my owner, a man who could end my life with nothing more than a flick of his wrist. I should be searching for the exits, not wondering how good it would feel to have his mouth closing over my cunt, his tongue flicking past my clit, and those long, thick fingers plunging deep inside of me.
Fuck. FUCK. This man will have no issue taking me against my will. I cannot allow myself to see him this way.
Shake it from your thoughts, Chiara. Don’t be a whore for this man.
As if seeing my inner turmoil, he takes pity on me and frees my stare, turning around as though he doesn’t have me already messed up. “Come now,” he says. “I will show you my home.”
I follow in silence as he takes me around the estate, showing me the spaces he thinks I’ll probably enjoy or find useful, and honestly, he’s not wrong. As we make our way through a home library that overlooks the mountain range, he tells me how he will have my closet stocked and suggests I speak to his head chef about my dietary needs.
With each new sentence out of his mouth, I find myself even more baffled by this strange man. I’m his property, the woman he claimed at an auction, and yet he’s welcoming me into his home like a long-lost guest he wishes to pamper. Where’s the cell? The dirty sheets and food scraps? This isn’t what I was expecting, not even remotely.
We walk back to one of the many living rooms where he refills his whiskey, and I realize just how serious he was. Since asking my name back at the warehouse, he hasn’t once used it. It’s not exactly high on my list of priorities, but it’s almost ironic. He knows my name and won’t use it, probably some kind of fucked-up way to misplace the guilt he feels from taking me away from the life I once knew. Either that or some kind of power play. Yet here I am, without even a clue who he is. At this point, I’d pay to learn his name and then inquire with my good friend, Google.
Lifting his glass to his lips, he takes a quick sip and focuses that intense stare back to mine, his gaze slightly narrowed with suspicion. It’s as if he’s patiently waiting for me to ask whatever is on my mind. Understanding just how serious he was about his desire to punish me, the thought of questioning him unnerves me, but I have to know what the hell I’ve gotten myself into. “I don’t know your name,” I tell him.
“There is no need for you to know my name, who I am, or what I do. Your one requirement is to cater to me.”
“How can I best cater to you when I don’t know anything about you?”
“I will teach you what you need to know and what is required of you,” he states. I hesitate, biting my bottom lip, and his gaze narrows. “What is it?”
“Can I be honest with you?” I question, feeling as though I’m about to shit myself with fear.
“I welcome your honesty,” he says with a slight nod, encouraging me to go on.