Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 77841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
In my head, I’m disgusted. My mind knows this is wrong, but my body is not on the same wavelength as the thoughts in my head.
I let my gaze wander from his hand, up his muscled torso to the way his shoulder flexes with every stroke.
He doesn’t look like a monster when he’s pleasuring himself, even though his actions are inherently devious.
His eyes meet mine for the briefest moment, and I avert my gaze once again.
My legs begin to tremble as my fingers work faster of their own accord.
It feels good, the pleasure I’m giving myself, and that carries its own set of problems. I don’t want this. I know I don’t want this.
But I also don’t know that I’ll be able to stop if that is the next command he gives me. My mouth hangs open, droplets of water catching on my lower lip, and I can almost pull myself from this situation.
I can picture myself doing this for a man that cares for me rather than performing for a man who only wants to hurt me.
I hate myself for being as turned on as I am. I’m disgusted as that spark, the tingle that always grows low in my belly, ignites. How fucked up is it that I want the impending orgasm as much as I want him to release me. I crave both in equal measure.
“That’s a good girl,” he says, his voice so low I can barely hear the words.
My first instinct is to growl at him. My next instinct is to pull my hand away but I’m a slave to the way it feels, to have something good happening to my body in such a terrible situation.
I once again chance a look into his eyes and realize he’s not patronizing me the way so many others have that have sent an ounce of praise my way. He didn’t say it because it’s a reward for him. He didn’t say it in an effort to get something from me.
He said it because he meant it. He’s pleased with the way I’m touching myself.
He’s pleased with the pleasure I’m feeling and that’s something I’ve never had in my life.
Most people are fake and only out for themselves.
They say thank you because they know that increases the chances of getting more from someone.
A gasp escapes my throat, and that garners a reaction from him as well.
I find that when his hand strokes faster, when his grip gets tighter, I’m mimicking his actions. My fingers swirl faster. I press a little harder. My pleasure elevates.
“I’m going to come,” I say more to myself than to him.
I’m shocked. I’m floored. I’m completely surprised that it’s even happening. The muscles in my legs tighten and it happens, bliss swirls through my body. The pleasure fades as quickly as it arrived. It doesn’t take but a second for shame, for an absolute disgust, to wash over me much like the water dripping down my back.
He steps closer, his hands still working his cock, but instead of touching me like I fear, he grunts and once again comes all over my skin.
“Clean yourself up,” he snaps, before rushing out of the bathroom.
Chapter 11
Liam
I needed to escape her. I needed to get away. I needed a few minutes to myself to think, to reevaluate every goddamn thing I’ve been doing since I brought her here. But I couldn’t. Because once I made it out to the bedroom, I realized that she was still untethered.
I have no doubt after what just happened, she’d try to leave.
I don’t even attempt to meet her eyes as I walk back into the bathroom, throw a towel in her direction and pick up the chain. She follows me, the sound of her wet feet on the bathroom floor.
I lock her chain back in place, not saying a word, and then I’m able to escape her.
“Jesus, fuck,” I hiss, as I make my way into the kitchen, my hand scraping over the top of my head in frustration. Coming on her skin last night, made things worse.
After a handful of hours of tossing and turning in my bed, I came up with a different plan. Watching her touch herself had to be the best and worst thing that could ever happen to me. It didn’t help things. It didn’t scratch an itch. It made me want more.
It made me need to touch her fingers to my lips. It made me want to swipe my tongue along that glistening slit of hers.
It made me desperate for her taste. It made me desperate to feel the warmth of her skin pressed against mine. It made me insane.
I busy myself in the kitchen, throwing together a platter of food. I need to stay away from her but I know that I won’t be able to. It’s never been instinct for me to fight my urges and that’s not going to change now.