Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Good girl. He released her and turned back toward the hall.
Truth was, he loved her verbal banter. It was one of the many reasons he hadn’t gagged her…yet.
He held his arms behind him, mirroring hers, and led her out of the causeway, past one of the three kitchens, and through an open terrace sitting area.
The warm breeze filled his lungs with the scent of rich soil, vegetation, and sunlight. The aroma of vida. One of his favorite features here was the ability to fold back the walls in every bedroom and living space and create this indoor-outdoor atmosphere.
“I thought mosquitoes were a plague in the jungle.” She squinted against the rays that filtered through the overhead trellis. “Or maybe that’s the idea. Are itchy, swollen bites one of your many methods of torture?”
“The balconies are above the tree tops, too high for insects. Turn right here.” He let her lead one step ahead and into the expansive library so that he could savor the exploratory shifts in her gaze as she took in the estate for the first time. “There are mosquito repelling flowers planted at ground level, and we spray when needed.”
“You say we as if your ass is out there exterminating bugs.” She pursed her lips. “Or is that how you started in this business? Did you leave Texas to become a liveried servant for slave traders?”
“I was never a servant.” He clenched his jaw at her blatant attempt to offend him. “But we employ a full staff. The servants live”—he pointed at a building nestled beneath a canopy of foliage—“there.”
“Is that where I’ll be staying?” Her eyes lowered to his dick and quickly snapped away. “Or do you keep all the slaves in a basement dungeon?”
“No dungeons.” The holding cells were in the west wing. “Tu vida es with me.”
“How does your boss feel about that?” Her gaze swept across his face and returned to the landscape. “Does he always let you keep random slaves for your sick enjoyment?”
“We both know you’re not a random slave.”
She pulled in a breath. “By both, do you mean you and me? Or you and Nico?”
“Hmm.” A smile tickled his mouth. He’d let her stew on that for a while.
“What about the slaves in the living room?” she asked. “And all the ones that came before them? Do you rape them, too?”
He grabbed her arm, stopping her forward motion. “I’ll allow your questions as long as the conversation interests me.”
She limbered up her shoulders and curled her lip.
“Matters concerning Nico and our business are off limits.” He tightened his grip. “Before you open your mouth, be damn sure it’s a response befitting your station.”
She rolled her jaw as if warring with her words, her eyes huge and feral. Then she looked away.
“Yes, Sir.” She lowered her head.
Wicked satisfaction zipped down his spine and coiled low in his groin, throbbing urgency along his hardening shaft. He needed to bury himself inside her and fuck her vigorously and thoroughly until they were both spent. Christ, he’d fantasized about it since the moment he started beating off in their grove.
The end goal was to earn her loyalty and gain her consent, an undertaking that would require weeks, months, maybe longer. In the meantime, he was under no delusions that he had the strength or the honor to wait around while she worked shit out in her head.
He was going to use her body in every way he imagined. She could cry, spit, and writhe in her restraints. Hell, she would definitely be doing all of that, and he would devour every explosive second of it while her pussy clamped around his cock.
Keeping his distance from her for the past four years had nurtured vicious cravings inside him, warping his tastes into an almighty need for painful, destructive sex. He was going to fuck her until they were both annihilated. Until their broken pieces scattered in an unholy tangled mess. And when they put themselves back together, there would no longer be hers and his. Only them.
He didn’t have to look inside her to know what she wanted. She’d come here, willingly, as a slave. She could tell herself it was a mission to stop slavery, but he knew she was searching for something to sate that which she didn’t yet understand, yearning to face a fear that haunted her since her abduction.
She put herself in a position to be raped and tortured because, deep down, this was her way of stepping inside and showing her teeth.
Dammit, he wanted to belt her for being so fucking reckless. But at the same time, she’d finally given him the opportunity to help her. To be there for her when he’d failed so spectacularly in the past.
It was a reminder of why he’d waited. As much as he wanted her, the end result had always been about her and what she needed.