Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
I could tell him how much I’ve missed him. How much I don’t want him to leave now that he’s here. Instead he speaks before my courage comes and says, “We need to decide exactly how I’ll be punishing you.”
My heart races from how deadly low his tone is. The leather of Zander’s belt glides easily from his belt loops as he unbuckles and removes it. All the while his eyes stay on mine.
The pounding of adrenaline in my blood causes it to heat and I swear I feel that pulse between my thighs the most.
With the belt folded in his hand, he turns his back to me before dragging the lone chair from my vanity to the end of the bed, placing it there and taking a seat.
He’s far too large for the dainty thing. His brooding stature takes it over.
“I apologize,” I say, answering him the only way I know how.
“Good girl,” he whispers with a sexed-up grin.
“Edging is what I would typically do in this situation, but—”
“Edging?”
“Orgasm denial for a few hours,” he says and leans back, more casual than he was a moment ago. His thumb runs down the stubble of his jaw as he adds, “Until I’m satisfied you’ve been punished.”
Heat simmers along my skin with the threat. James did that before. It wasn’t for hours and I cussed him out during. I vaguely remember being on the verge of tears when he finally let me get mine, then he fucked me into the mattress while telling me how much he loved me.
With my heart in my throat, I whisper, “It’s what you would do normally … but?”
“But I found what you did made me hard as fuck, so I’ll be rewarding you instead.”
The blush that rises through me, from the tips of my toes all the way up to the crown of my head, is heated and proof I’m eager for more.
“There’s—” I hesitate, my knuckles going white as I stare down at them, biting my tongue.
“Say it,” Zander’s voice is calm but I still can’t bring myself to look up at him, the memory that begged to be spoken playing in my mind.
“Tell me right now.” His tone is hardened and my gaze whips to his.
“I don’t love the pain.” I whisper the confession before swallowing.
His emerald and amber gaze is assessing, and the concern in his expression is apparent with the wrinkles that form around his eyes and his downturned lips.
Swallowing thickly I add, “James had a friend once.” It’s only once his name is spoken that I realize how easily I’ve mentioned my late husband. My lover. The only man who I’ve given everything to. It doesn’t feel like the betrayal I imagined it would. It feels like he’s given me permission. Like I’m supposed to tell Zander.
“When we were playing and learning things … he had a friend who asked questions. Most of them I didn’t really pay attention to.” That night was exceptional and a sigh leaves me at the memory, but the warmth that leaves means a chill settles inside of me. Picking at an imperceptible loose thread on the sheet, I peek up at Zander. “We were learning punishments and when James said I was a brat, that I pushed him to be punished, his friend asked if I loved the pain.” Shaking my head comes without conscious consent. “I don’t like it … not like his submissive did.”
Since Zander’s come in and seated himself in the chair in front of me, the sun has begun to set and the warm hues seep into the curtains behind him. With the light dimmed, shadows play along his sharp features.
He nods once before commanding me, “Strip. Down to nothing.”
I don’t expect the embarrassment. With my fingers fumbling at the hem of my silk pajamas, I can’t even look him in the eyes. Of everything I thought I would feel confiding in Zander, embarrassment isn’t one of them. It’s quickly relieved when he tells me, “I’m not a sadist, Ella. I don’t love the pain either and I already knew you weren’t a masochist.”
My heart thuds in a way that denies the space between us, like it doesn’t exist. A different kind of heat takes over as he stares into my gaze, unbuttoning his shirt with one hand and tells me, “I want you naked with your heels on the mattress, legs bent and spread, so I can taste you.”
With trembling hands I comply to his every wish, not sure if this is the punishment, the reward, or some kind of concoction of the two of them swirled together.
My hair cascades and spreads like a halo around me, my chest rising and falling as I stare above at the chandelier. At the details of the natural, untreated wood and the elegant curves of the iron that shape the sphere.