Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Stomach somersaulting, walls and clit throbbing, and face flushed, I keep the connection between us. Victor’s heated gaze watches me as I suck him off.
“I bet your cunt’s dripping wet.”
Drool rushes along my chin as I feel a slow trail of my own juices following a similar trail between my thighs. I drip in anticipation. “Next time I’m inside of you, it will be rough, Little One.”
Pride flung into oblivion, the agonizing tension spasming my walls demands release.
“Make me cum, and you will have your reward.” Victor lifts his hips, cock piercing the back of my throat, a dark promise of what’s in store.
I slowly relax as his hands release from my hair, holding my face. Victor’s hips continue to jerk as he pumps between my lips, working my throat with his fierce control. His smooth cock surges in and out of my mouth. I suck harder and faster, waiting for the semisweet creaminess. Proof that he’s satisfied, and I can have him inside me.
The evidence that he’s forgiven me.
“Forgiven!” I awaken at once, body jetting into an upright position in bed. Moonlight spills into the room from the very window Victor had climbed through to ensnare me months ago.
“Dammit, Luxxie,” I murmur to myself, rubbing my weary eyes. What do I need to be forgiven for? This psychotic asshole has controlled me to the point of madness.
6
Luxury
* * *
I never quite returned to sleep, engrossing myself in searching for homes that meet Dad’s relocation package requirements from Greco. I looked at places closer to his place of business and flowed with the bus route to the university that I have yet to receive a response from. Now, dressed in a jogging suit, I silently walk next to Brick toward Urban Gardens.
Once we’ve approached the stretch of brownstones that houses my flower shop and other businesses, my steps stall. Beams of sunshine stitch through honeylocust trees. I glance at a mural on the side of the building, then across the way to the memorabilia store, where I once purchased tiny, blue toy trains in lieu of vases for a customer’s first baby shower.
Brick looks me over, overzealous at the thought of danger.
“I’m being emotional today, sorry.” I shove the edges of my lips up, and seconds later, his peculiar stare vanishes.
After a nod, he sweeps his arm out for me to proceed.
God, I could really go for Vic’s insistence.
Before it dawns on me that I’ve returned to my indecent craving, the morning after our first night consumes my thoughts. The memory is a profound balm slathered over my aching heart as I reminisce on how Victor saw me, heard my feelings, emotions, and deepest regrets.
Damn it, Luxxie. You let him spill over from your subconscious. I reprimand myself, looking inside my shop, which looms on the opposite side of a wrought iron gate and door. I stuff my hand into my cross-body purse, fishing out the keys.
“May I?” Brick asks although I’ve no other choice.
“Thanks.” I hand the keys over. The gate creaks, shifting like an accordion. Brick opens the door, finishing off with a quick sweep of my tiny floral shop. As he nods me inside, my heart charges into my throat, beating wildly. I rub my now clammy palms onto my hips, elongate my spine, and enter the store, stripped of flowers. Only empty pots remain. Aliyah had sold the cash register earlier this week, and the floors look freshly polished. She has piled the few teddies in one area, and I run a thumb over a Christmas-ornament-shaped chocolate on top of the glass display case. Well, there’s not enough candy to take home to Dad, and Brick looked at me like a chubby chucker the one time I offered.
As a nervous eater, I quickly unwrap the confection while opening the drapes. The rose-shaped clock strikes nine a.m.
“Oh, do you mind taking down the clock?” I ask Brick. “It belonged to my mom.”
As he reaches on his tippy toes, the door chimes. I hadn’t heard the sound of it when the Russian came inside months ago. Brick hands me the clock, hand dropping to his waistband.
At the sight of Victor Tudor and his signature scowl, there’s a catch in my throat, along with a bit of unmelted chocolate. I feel like a fool, forcing it all down and tossing the last half on the counter. Really, candy in the morning, Lux?
My eyes drink in every inch of his tall, dark, and God-sculpted frame. The same butterflies that charged through my abdomen at first sight have another go.
Victor’s deep, blue eyes sweep the room in a second, but it feels like a thousand years pass before the calming depth of them land on me. He’s virtually unreadable.
My eyes narrow. I attempt some form of defense. All the while, my brain only registers his scent. His testosterone creates a cologne made just for Victor.