Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 130048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
I shook my head just once.
She’d well and truly fucked up now.
Roland stalked around her, running a finger up her arm, across her shoulders, and down her other arm. She shuddered but didn’t move, common sense screeching to be careful.
Tapping the cuff on her wrist, he said, “You have jewels of every colour and facet, Master Jeweler. You have some that bleed, some that break, and some that bow and take whatever we give without complaint. My favourite of your jewels, Mollie, has a bachelor’s in quantum physics, for goodness’ sake. Your slaves aren’t drugged or diseased, like some. They’re perfect in every way, but this one?” He snatched a handful of Ily’s shoulder-length inky hair. “This one is special.”
“Fuck off,” Ily hissed, trying to extract herself from his hold.
“She certainly has…passion,” Victor murmured, never taking his eyes off Ily. He stared at her as if she were an exotic bird. A bird he didn’t know if he wanted to place in a cage or rip her wings off.
“Passion?” Roland groaned and grabbed his cock through his pants. “Merde, she’s dripping in it. I can taste it from here.”
“Roland,” I growled. “If anyone is tasting anything, it’s me.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He let himself go and cupped Ily’s cheek, holding her in a two-fisted grip. “You can get first fuck, but I want to be the first to take her into the snuffbox.”
Ice solidified in my gut.
Snuffbox?
What the flying fuck is that?
Ily made a noise of pure loathing as Roland kissed her again before letting her go and turning to Victor. “Please, Victor. I beg you to let me be the one to initiate her. I’ll wait. I’ll be patient. Henri can use her first, but please allow me to eat the rest of that passion. I want to be the one who devours it all.”
Ily sucked in a thin breath.
Victor continued to study her.
And I made the first mistake of many. “Whatever the snuffbox is…I want that right.” I stepped forward, standing to my full height. I towered over Roland, but Victor met my eyes. Harder to intimidate a guy who wasn’t shorter, but I did it through sheer will. “I’ll pay.”
“Pay?” Victor’s eyebrows shot up. “Pay what exactly?”
“Pay to fuck her in the snuffbox.”
Victor chuckled. “I have no doubt you have depraved daydreams, Ward, and I’m sure those fantasies will come out to play the longer you stay here, but…you aren’t ready for that. You have no idea what goes on in there.”
He went to pat me condescendingly on the shoulder, but I reared back and bared my teeth. “I know what I want.”
“I’m sure you do.” He smiled mockingly. “But the fact remains—”
“I want her bleeding.”
Everyone froze.
Ily’s honey-hazel gaze snapped to mine. “W-What?”
Ignoring her, I sank into the oily, revolting parts of me. Parts I never wanted to share with anyone: vile things, wicked things, heinous and hideous things.
I would never confess that sex had never satisfied me. Out of the number of partners I’d had, I’d always walked away frustrated. I couldn’t come unless I let my mind drown in the sickest shit. I couldn’t snuggle once we’d finished because my blood would itch for more, for worse, for wrong.
“Go on…” Victor said softly. “I’m listening. Tell me, Henri. Tell me what you’ve never told anyone. What you don’t even want to admit to yourself.”
Locking eyes with Ily, I gritted my teeth and swallowed hard. “I want to know what it feels like to hold her life in my hands. To fuck her to the brink of death. To bleed her to the edge of nothing. To bruise her until she—” I choked and shook my head. I dropped my eyes, unable to look at her.
“Finish,” Victor commanded. “You want to bruise her until…?”
I shuddered with self-loathing. “Until her very bones are imprinted with my ownership. I want to mark her, brand her. I want my teeth piercing her skin. I want her skin whipped bright red. I want…I want…” I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “I want to make her scream because I get off on that. I want her pain. I want her tears. I want her fighting as I hold her down and prove to her that she belongs to me, and there is nothing, absolutely nothing, she can do about it.”
Soft, slicing quietness fell.
Ily didn’t move.
Roland smirked.
Victor grinned. “I liked your confession back at the club, but I like that one even more.”
I wanted to find some bleach and flush my mouth with it.
The faint scuffs of bare feet sounded on the travertine, growing louder and louder until a lean man with dusky skin, ebony eyes, and glossy brown hair appeared from one of the huge rooms leading from the foyer. His hands swayed loosely at his sides, his gaze almost lazy and uncaring. His linen pants and mostly-undone white shirt screamed decadence with an ‘I didn’t try at all’ carelessness. He could’ve been a guest himself—some rich perverted asshole here to play—if it wasn’t for the matching collar around his throat and the gleaming cuffs on his wrists.