Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 147801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
The way his hand rests on my chest, tentatively, like he doesn’t want to touch me, but he can’t not do it.
Look at that. We really have so much in common.
“S-stop,” he stutters and then puffs out a long, fractured breath against my face.
“Say it again and mean it, baby,” I whisper right into his ear, and he jolts, muffling a noise. “You can’t. Want to know why? Because you’re desperate to see what I’ll do next. You’ve been rubbing yourself against my cock, making it nice and hard so I can fuck you.”
“You’ll never fuck me.” He headbutts me weakly, out of breath.
“Care to place a bet?” I wrap my hand around his throat and flip us over so fast, he blinks up in confusion as he half lies on the stool, his back to the island and I’m half lying on top of him, my knee jammed between his legs, right against his cock.
“There. Much better.” I stroke his clean-shaven jaw, not really choking him. “You look stunning pinned beneath me.”
Gareth's wide eyes lock with mine, a sharp flash of what seems like panic darting across his face. The air thickens with charged tension as he whispers, “Let me go.”
“You know the exact answer to that.”
His breaths quicken, turning shallow, and I can feel the pulse racing in his throat like he's on the edge of something he can't control. It’s the power, the idea that he has to give it to me—and he does have to give it to me—pushes him to the edge.
I expect him to try to hit me like he usually does when he’s pushed, but he doesn’t—he's trapped in the storm of his own confusion, exposed in a way I haven’t seen before.
The shift in his energy pulls at something inside me, something cold and calculating, but also unsettling.
And I find my voice softening—as much softening as I can manage. “There’s no need to fight the inevitable. I’ll make sure you love every second of it.”
“I don’t want this.”
“You’re rock fucking hard. Stop lying.”
“I…”
“What is it this time, Carson? Another one of your back-and-forth tactics?”
“No, it’s…”
“It’s what? Use your words and articulate clearly.”
He gulps at the command, his eyes widening a bit and then says, “Let me do it, then.”
“Let you do what?”
“Let me be the one who fucks you.” His voice is so low, it’s not like him.
He’s just grasping at straws at this point.
It’s obvious that Gareth isn’t proactive but enjoys being devoured. The fact that he still can’t see it—or more accurately, admit it to himself—after so many encounters is a bit concerning, but I must deal with this carefully so he doesn’t balk.
“Do you even want that?” I ask, stroking his jaw again.
He gets distracted, his nostrils flaring and his eyes drooping a little as he speaks in the same quiet tone. “Yeah.”
“Do you truly want it or are you just saying that so you don’t have to surrender control and let me fuck you?”
“I won’t be fucked,” he snaps.
I see. So that’s the problem.
“All right. You can fuck me.”
His eyes widen, his body losing the tension, but that unsure edge still lingers on his pretty face. “Really?”
“Really. If you manage to flip us over so you’re on top, I’ll let you do it.”
Most people would have a moment of hesitation, a few seconds where they think of the meaning or derive the best strategy.
Carson, however, doesn’t waste time.
He bucks his entire body and grabs my arm to flip us. Unfortunately for him, I’ve already tightened my grip on his throat, my hand on his waist as I shove my knee further into his cock until he groans.
But he doesn’t give up. Not when his face turns red or when his cock pulses against my knee, enjoying the wrestling a bit too much.
“We both get off on violence,” I whisper against his ear. “You’re just playing with fire now.”
“Fuck you.”
I bite down on the lobe. “Language, baby.”
“Ugh—” He flails and even tries to knee me, but the position doesn’t allow him to.
It doesn’t matter that he works out and has a vigorous archery practicing schedule. I’m a trained killing machine he’ll never win against.
That’s why I made the offer—to make sure he loses, gives up, and sees there’s no other way.
“You done?” I lick his lower lip, and it twitches, the wound oozing blood again. “Ready for my cock now?”
A shock goes through me.
Literally.
The next thing I know, I’m holding on to the island, then he kicks me and I’m on the ground.
Bolts of electricity surge through me, and I look up to see him holding a Taser, his chest heaving, hoodie pushed up to reveal a sliver of his waist.
“I should’ve electrocuted you in that tub, but then again, I don’t want you to die yet.” He pants, a little grin spreading across his face as those deep dimples make their first genuine appearance.