Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 109882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
“Look at me,” he said, his voice husky, as if I were affecting him and my reward was this slight crack in his armor. With my gaze locked with his and his hips doing the work now, thrusting in and retreating between my lips, I could do nothing but hold on as he found his pleasure.
The tears continued to stream down my face every time he lodged the tip of his shaft at the back of my throat. I felt high, like any moment now I’d reach the very heavens.
Cameron cupped one side of my cheek, and I saw the way his jaw clenched, knew he was on the precipice of coming, of surrendering to me. I breathed in and out through my nose, not trying to stop this, not trying to push him back. I wanted to taste him, to have his cum in my mouth, sliding down my throat. I wanted him to force me to take it all.
And then he buried all his hard, hot inches into me and came. And I swallowed every last drop.
His hold on my hair was brutal, the pain very real, but it was coupled with the desire I had for him, the fact it was because of me that he’d let go. He pulled my head back, his semi-hard shaft slipping from my mouth. I felt a little of his cum slip out of the corner of my mouth, and as he looked at me, I swiped my tongue over it. I wanted every last drop of him in me.
When he let go of my hair, only then did I sag forward, my hands on the floor, my head lowered. I closed my eyes and sucked in much needed air, my lungs burning, my mind and body on fire. I felt his finger under my chin, lifting my head up so I had to look at him again.
He leaned down and ran his tongue over one side of my face, licking the wetness away. “The sweetest flavor on my tongue is your tears.” He pulled back slightly, his face so close, his warm breath brushing along my cheek. “And you’ll give me more of them, so much more before our time is done, Sofia.”
Chapter 13
I could have gotten lost in a home this big, with so many rooms it was an endless labyrinth. The cold floors were unforgiving on my bare feet, and although I could have put shoes on, blocking out the rigid feeling, putting a barrier between the two, I liked the sensations. It made me feel like I was here, that I wasn’t dreaming, wasn’t conjuring up this entire situation.
After the solarium encounter Cameron had gotten a phone call. He’d excused himself like we hadn’t just done something dark and…good? God, I didn’t know anymore, didn’t know what to think, didn’t know if I should embrace what I felt and ignore the nagging in the back of my head that told me I shouldn’t want this. But the truth was I did want this. I was tired of the feeling of being nowhere, yet surrounded by everything. I didn’t fit in anywhere, and I realized that in Cameron’s presence. I might cry for him, my body instinctively wanting to submit, but being in his presence told me exactly how fragile I was.
It made me realize I really was here, experiencing the world.
But I’d never been one to freely give in, never been a woman who just took what the world gave her. I’d fought for where I was, even if that place was shitty and broken down.
I stopped in front of the window that overlooked the gardens. Despite the April weather being somewhat warm, I saw the wind pick up, brushing along the leaves, telling me that it was colder than it looked. Putting my hand on the glass proved my point, the chilled pane bringing a sting to my palm.
The house felt still, empty, and the only staff I’d seen were those few during breakfast, when I’d first arrived, and the woman who’d come into the room just this morning. I had a feeling if Cameron had been there she wouldn’t have dared enter. He just brought out the instinctual fear in people. That much I’d felt myself.
I moved my hand from the glass and turned, making my way down another long hallway, and stopped at one of the only open doors I’d seen so far. It looked like a sitting room, or what I assumed one of those rooms would look like if I’d ever been in one. Dark furniture was placed in the center, and large windows were on either side of the room. The marble fireplace sat unused, clean, pristine, as if it was just for show. Behind me were rows upon rows of books, and although I wasn’t much of a reader, I did find myself moving toward them. Old leather-bound books which spoke of age, time, stared back at me. I ran my hands over them, the ridges on the spines a texture that pleased me for some reason.