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)
I contemplated about lying, about making something up, or maybe being submissive, subservient. I thought about just telling him I made the sound because I was eager for this, or maybe scared of it—the latter being the truth. He added a bit of pressure to my throat, and I braced my hands on the vanity, rising up slightly.
I arched my neck, wanting the pressure off, wanting him to add more.
He held me like he had a right to, like I wanted this, would beg him for it eventually.
I’d probably do that now.
What I was fighting myself on was the fact that these things he said to me, did to me, humiliating as they were, turned me on.
“I thought about how I’m yours for the next two weeks, but that you’re also mine.” Being honest seemed like the best course, but truthfully I probably wouldn’t have been able to force the lie out anyway.
He pulled back and stared at me, barely breathing, not moving.
A part of me didn’t want to desire him, didn’t want this. But I couldn’t fight it. I didn’t want to.
“You want to know the man I am, Sofia?” The way he said it, the look in his eyes and the deepness of his voice, startled me. He was like an animal waiting to pounce on his prey, just take the weaker creature and devour it.
And I was that weaker animal.
He moved back from me, his hand leaving my throat. He started undoing the buttons of his shirt, pushing the material off his shoulders, and I was left speechless as I stared at the body before me. I’d been able to see how strong and muscular he was even when he wore a suit. Thick biceps, vein-roped arms, a defined six-pack and that V that framed it, and tattoos covering it all.
It wasn’t the ink that startled me, but the thick scars I saw underneath. Ones that looked like knife wounds, maybe even cigarettes burns? There was an array of other nasty-looking ones that could be made out if I looked hard enough. The ink did a good job of camouflaging it all, but they were there, a testament of the violent life he’d led.
Were they self-inflicted or brought on by another? Had he been held down and tortured, or freely accepted his fate? The words slammed into my head, the questions replaying over and over again.
“The monster I am is on the inside and outside, Sofia.” He moved toward me again. My legs were still spread, and he stepped between them, his body heat seeping into me. “I never pretended to be someone I’m not.” He tilted his head to the side, his focus on my mouth, his dark eyes like coal. “Beaten as a child, sold into an illegal underage fighting circuit, I made sure I stayed alive. That’s all I knew how to do.” He had his hands on my thighs, his fingers long, rough. He added a little bit of pressure. I knew he could snap my bones with ease, his strength not something he showed. It was just who and what he was. “Love and affection is not something I know, not something I will ever embrace.” He slid his hands up my thighs, over my belly, along the curve of my breasts, and wrapped them around my throat once more.
There was no fear in me, despite my heart thundering and my palms sweating. The feeling of his hands on my neck was comforting, secure.
“The love I learned was fists slamming into my body, blood filling my mouth. Eating, breathing…surviving, meant I fought my way to the top.” He moved an inch closer, his hard cock pressed to my pussy again. “That’s the type of man I am, the only comfort I know.” His mouth was so close to mine, his warm, sweet breath moving along my lips. “But I saw you, and this obsession grew, this possessive need to have you, claim you as mine.” He looked me right in the eye, maybe willing me to understand the severity, depravity of what he meant. “And for the first time in my life I wanted something soft and sweet.”
Could he hear my heart beating, see how rapid my breathing was?
“So you know who I am, see what I am.” He moved his hands down my arms, squeezed my wrists, then moved them behind my back. “Keep them there.” He then lowered himself to his haunches, placed his hands on my thighs, and wrenched them open until pain sliced through my muscles.
I was wrapped up in a delusion that I was his, or maybe it wasn’t delusional at all. Maybe I was his, in every way, and in the end I’d be this twisted, warped, desperate person, needing his touch, aching for it.
“So pink. So wet.” He looked up at me, the shadows playing across his face. He leaned forward, and I held my breath. “Make noise for me, pretty girl. Scream, lash out if you want. Pain and pleasure make one strong emotion that’s undeniable.”