Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 156392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
I nod and she drops her hand, looking as stiff as a board as she trembles in her soaked dress.
“Do you still think I’m beautiful?”
“Yes.”
“Even though I’ll ruin you?”
“Possibly.”
“Liar.” She laughs, then wraps her arms around me. “Hey, Mr. King?”
“Yes?”
“Fuck me.”
“Not now.”
“When, then? I want to get laid.”
She rubs her stomach against my cock and I hate how my dick jerks to attention at her merest touch.
“You know you want me.” She peppers kisses on my jaw, my throat, my lips and even licks the blood she drew, then whispers in my ear, “You can tie me up and do whatever you please.”
It takes an obscene amount of control not to succumb to her provocations and take her on the grass like a caveman. But that would be no different than taking advantage of her, when it’s obvious that sober Ava isn’t at all open to that option.
My bruised lip throbs beneath her pillow-soft mouth, her gentle kisses, her innocent humping of my thickening cock that’s about to burst.
I wrap a tense hand around her shoulder and shove her away. “You have no idea what you’re asking for.”
“I do. I’m not a kid anymore.”
With a curse, I grab her by the wrist and drag her behind me to the house, not caring about the water trail we leave behind.
Logically, I should call Sam, then disappear and hope she’ll wake up better tomorrow without my triggering presence.
However, logic seems to have fled me tonight, because I take her to her bathroom and stop to watch her as she stands in the middle of the white and pink-themed space with a huge Jacuzzi tub and golden taps.
I throw a towel on her head and rub it a few times. “Stay here.”
I walk back to her bedroom and grab the first thing I put my hands on—a white silk nightgown. When I return, I find her in the same position, staring at the floor with the towel still on her head.
With a sigh, I stand behind her and pull down the zipper of her dress, revealing porcelain white skin covered with a sheen of water.
I help her shimmy out of the dress, trying my hardest not to stroke her hard nipples, touch her pussy, or slap her arse for good measure.
Jesus Christ.
Wanting to do the right thing with this woman is harder in practice.
I try to push her toward the shower, but she refuses to budge. She also seems to have checked out. Which isn’t always a bad sign, because at least this way, she’s less destructive.
My hands are steady as I dry her to the best of my ability without lingering too much on her breasts or pussy, then to eliminate the temptation, I slip on her white gown.
No. It’s not better.
Her wet blonde locks frame her face angelically, and the silk material clings to her skin with soft elegance.
I pick her up and carry her in my arms, then place her in the bed and pull the duvet over her body.
She lies on her back, staring at the ceiling as if I’m invisible.
My lips brush over her forehead. “Good night, beautiful.”
I’m about to pull away, but she clutches my cheeks and shoves my mouth against hers. The cut stings, but I couldn’t care less, because when she releases me, a soft smile brightens her face.
“Good night.”
And then her eyes flutter closed.
As I watch her peaceful expression, I almost forget that I’m married to what’s societally known as a madwoman.
Worse, she doesn’t even know it.
And I’ll make sure it remains this way.
17
AVA
The morning comes with a surprisingly refreshing start. I haven’t slept so soundly in…well, ever, now that I think about it.
Except for in my very distant, barely memorable childhood, I’ve often had a crippling problem with sleep.
Eventually, it scared me to the point where I always made sure I slept on my own and never with others.
The only person I trusted not to sell out my chaotic mental state and tragic future was Cecily.
When we were at uni, she often checked on me before bed, stood there until she was satisfied I’d taken my medication, and even prepared me a glass of milk or some herbal tea.
Part of the reason why I fell with less grace than broken china in my final years of uni was because I was hit with the reality that she had her own life. Expecting her to stay with me forever when I knew for a fact that she yearned for a family of her own was both selfish and shameful.
My own thoughts—jealousy of Jeremy and the inability to accept my new situation—are what drove me over the edge.
Alcohol, drugs, and any form of escapism. I lost my grip of reality more often than not and stressed so hard about the very possibility that Papa would figure everything out and shove me into a mental institute.