Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
“Amani,” I say under my breath and start running that way.
“The girl who went home?” Lauren asks, following close behind.
“I don’t know, maybe,” I tell her, slowing down as the path gets rocky and starts going downhill to the beach. “Maybe she didn’t really leave.”
“Why would they lie? And why would none of us have seen her? Why hide her?” Lauren asks. “I swear, your imagination needs to be scaled back.”
She’s right though. When we get to the beach, there’s no sign of Amani or anyone, just the calm waves lapping on the white-sand shore, the peeling orange bark of the lone Madrona looking extra fiery in the sunset.
“Maybe you should consider taking up drinking again,” Lauren says, looking me over. “You’re kinda stressed, whether you know it or not.”
“I’m fine,” I tell her, scanning the forest illuminated by the sun’s glow. “I could have sworn I heard my name.”
“Probably an elk, like Justin said. There’s an estuary not far from here and their calls are made to carry. Come on, let’s head back. We left Munawar alone with Justin and Natasha, and I’m afraid he’s about to turn into a third wheel.”
By the time we get back to the gazebo, however, all the activity has left me exhausted. I know the sun won’t set for a bit, but I’d rather be asleep by then.
I excuse myself and head to the main lodge. The common room is quieter than normal, with only Noor sitting in an armchair by the fire, reading a book. Everyone else must be out enjoying the nice evening.
I head up the stairs, pausing at the landing when I hear a door above me shut, and a key turning, the sounds close enough to be coming from my room. I round the corner, and suddenly, Kincaid is running down the stairs.
“Kincaid?” I call out to him as he brushes past me, the scent of sweet tobacco and cedar whipping past, but he doesn’t stop.
I watch as he disappears out the front door, and then I hurry up the stairs to my room. I quickly unlock the door and step inside, locking it again behind me.
Was Kincaid just in my room?
I turn on all the lights and look around, inspecting everything. Nothing seems to be taken; everything is exactly as I left it or as much as I remember.
Then I notice something that I can’t believe I didn’t notice before.
Poking halfway under the bed are the black Nike sneakers I thought I forgot to pack.
CHAPTER 9
I’m dreaming again.
Kincaid’s office. Moonlight spills in through the blinds, leaving slashes of cold light amidst the darkness. I’m on my knees, the thick rug cushioning me as I reach up and unzip Kincaid’s pants in a teasing manner.
I glance up at him, and he’s staring down at me with quiet intensity, made all the more feral by the moonlight in his eyes, turning the grey to the color of a grave.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice feeling like fingers down my spine. “Let me use you.”
Heat flares between my legs. I want him to keep talking like that.
I want to feel.
I slowly take his dick out of his pants, large, thick, and perfectly sculpted. It’s hot to touch in my palm. I give it a squeeze, which makes his nostrils flare.
“Look at you, my little pet,” he says through a hiss. “Holding my cock like you’ve held countless others. But you don’t know how to please me, do you? You’re not quite good enough. Not yet.”
That’s what you think.
“Prove your worth to me,” he goes on, voice growing hoarse. “Prove you’re something more than a useless little slut, a vessel for my pleasure.”
“Yes, Doctor,” I say, knowing he loves it when I call him that.
I wrap my lips around the head of his cock, the salt of his precum making my taste buds dance. I love taking him like this, feeling every inch of him in such a vulnerable, raw way. Like I’m a heathen, worshipping the devil. I love how he looms above me, all power and control, that I’m subjected to his whims, used solely for his gratification.
“So cum hungry, so desperate,” he purrs. “I can smell how wet you are from here.”
I moan, pressing my tongue along the ridge as he grabs my hair, making a tight fist as he starts pumping his hips, thrusting into my wet mouth.
“Keep going. Taking my cock like the good little bitch you are.”
The praise thrills me, shoots straight to my pussy, and I start writhing in desperation, knowing how it will make him degrade me again.
I need to hear it. To hear both.
I slip my hand between my thighs.
“Disobedient,” he growls, yanking my hair in a deliciously painful way. “You know that sweet cunt belongs to me, pet. You know you don’t have permission to touch what’s mine.”