Total pages in book: 266
Estimated words: 250787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1254(@200wpm)___ 1003(@250wpm)___ 836(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 250787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1254(@200wpm)___ 1003(@250wpm)___ 836(@300wpm)
GAVIN: Your information was correct.
Smiling, I exit out and lock the phone. Looking up, I see Kashton already staring at me.
“Good news?” he asks.
“Something like that,” I answer. It’s the green light I’ve been waiting for.
CHARLOTTE
I’m sitting on the couch, eating popcorn while watching Slasher, when my doorbell rings, knowing it’s probably Wesley. I bailed on him again. I just didn’t feel like going to a sports bar with him and the guys tonight. If I wanted to watch sports, I’d go to a game. If I want to go out, I’m going out to get drunk and dance. Staying home just sounded better than either one.
Getting up, I make my way to the door and open it to see Haidyn standing on my porch, one hand gripping the strap to his backpack and the other shoved into the pocket of his leather jacket. Seeing him still makes my stomach tighten at the possibility of why he’s here. “I have another day,” I remind him.
He smirks at me, entering and forcing me to step back. “Don’t worry. I won’t be long. Just dropping by to give you something.”
“Aw?” I slam the door shut. I lock the door and want to laugh at myself. The biggest threat I have is already inside. “Did you bring me flowers and chocolate?” I turn around to face him.
His hand wraps around my throat, pulling me up to my tiptoes. “Remember what I said about sarcasm?”
I swallow against his hand, knowing he can feel my pulse pick up at his words. “Yes,” I whisper.
He lets go of my neck, and I rub it. He wasn’t cutting off my air, but he had a good grip on it.
I follow him into my living room. He stops and looks at the TV for a second before turning to face me. “Strip,” he commands, his voice deeper.
My body begins to shake, but my hands go to the hem of my T-shirt without thought. I pull it up and over my head, tossing it to the side. I’m not wearing a bra. I push the thin material of the cotton shorts and underwear down my legs and kick them out of my way so I’m standing before him naked.
He stood at the end of the exam table fingering my ass and played with my breasts just two days ago before I came all over his fingers. There’s nothing on my body he hasn’t seen.
As shy as I was before, my mother raised me to love my body. She once told me to know my body more than any man. That way, when I’m given to a Lord, I can satisfy myself.
When he steps forward, my breathing picks up. My nipples instantly go hard. Reaching out, he runs his hands down my stomach before they grip my hips, pulling my body flush with his. “How do you feel?”
“Fine,” I whisper, looking up at him through my lashes. He’s every bit of six-seven, and he’s got combat boots on. I’m five-two and barefoot, not to mention naked. He’s got an advantage in every possible scenario right now.
He takes my hand and pulls me over to the center of the living room. He grabs a throw pillow off the couch and places it in the center of the large glass coffee table. “Lie on it. Face down,” he commands. “I want your hips to rest on the pillow.”
“I—”
“It’ll hold you.”
Crawling onto the table, I take in a shaky breath, nervous it’ll shatter into a million pieces and cut me when we both fall to the floor. Doing as he said, I lie down face-first, and the coldness makes me hiss in a breath.
He grabs my hips, lifting them to position the pillow where he wants it under my hips—pushing my ass up in the air.
He kneels in front of me and unzips his backpack. I take a second to push my hair from my face for a better look when he removes rope from it. He quickly ties my left wrist to the leg of the coffee table before doing the same to the right. Then he disappears, and I feel the rope around one ankle and then the other. He’s tied me spread eagle face down on the coffee table naked.
I’m moaning, pulling on them. My body was already starting to tingle, but now it’s heating up. I pant, trying to reposition myself to a more comfortable position, but it’s useless.
“Are you a rope bunny, doll face?” he asks with a chuckle. Then he grabs a small-looking hourglass with sand out of his bag and places it in front of the TV, and I frown, watching the sand start to fall through it.
“I…I don’t know what that means,” I stammer, trying to ignore my throbbing pussy. If he looks, he’ll see I’m already wet.