Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
By the time we completed our final Rite, she would be fully mine. My hand clenched the armrest of the chair as I watched the steam swirl around her in the shower. She stood under the showerheads, her dark hair dripping water down her back, and it made me imagine the way our bodies would intertwine again. I could almost feel the warmth of her skin. I envisioned myself pressing her against the tiled wall, the sound of the water mingling with her moans and her pleas to stop.
I closed my eyes, the image of her pliant body consuming me.
I could feel the slickness of her pussy, the way she dug her nails into my back, and how she clenched around me. My erection grew harder, the need to have her again overwhelmed me. There was a darker part of me, a part that wanted to break her. To push her past the point of no return. To see the fire in her eyes as she begged for mercy, only to have me pour more pain and pleasure upon her.
I opened my eyes just as she turned and the mark I had freshly carved stood out like a beacon.
Fuck.
I undid the button on my slacks and slipped my hand inside, freeing my cock from the restricting fabric of my boxers. It was still covered in her dried blood and come; the sight alone made me groan. I stroked myself, watching her wash herself, the way her breasts bobbed with the motion of her hands. She was oblivious to my desires and that I was watching, lost in her own world of lathering soap and scrubbing away the remnants of the day—of me.
I’d put it all back.
My hand tightened around my throbbing cock, the blood surging through it in time with my racing heart. With each stroke, I focused solely on her - her lithe form, the way she moved, the scent of her hair as it cascaded down her back.
My grip on my dick grew tighter, my imagination conjuring vivid images of her submitting to me willingly and eagerly. The thought alone was enough to make me groan. As I watched her rinse off in the shower, water streaming down her glistening body, I could feel myself reaching the brink. A single bead of water formed on her navel and trailed downwards, tracing the path of another kind of wetness that I couldn’t get enough of. The sight was too much for me to handle, and I almost groaned again.
Her soft humming filled the air as she remained completely unaware of the effect she had on me. That I was watching. Clutching my dick even tighter, feeling the veins pulsating beneath my skin, I stroked myself with a fierce hunger. The mere thought of bending her over that sink and fucking her right then and there had pre-come forming on my tip.
As she turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, all I could think about was her naked body dried off and waiting for me.
"Lolita," I growled her name like a dark prayer on my lips. "You're mine." My cock throbbed in my hand as I pictured her spread open and waiting for me. My eyes squeezed shut against the overwhelming pleasure spreading through every inch of my body like wildfire. And then finally, with one final squeeze of my balls, I groaned as I came hard, my orgasm so intense it was almost painful. My come splattered against my desk and the floor.
“Fuck,” I swore softly, reaching for the tissue box on the edge of my desk. I cleaned the head of my cock, and then wiped off my desk and the bit of come from the hardwood, tossing the tissue in the trash can beneath the desk before I reached for my drink and took another sip.
I finally turned my attention to the work that was waiting, though my eyes kept drifting to the screen.
Lolita had padded through the bathroom and went into our closet, searching for clothes. I switched between the cameras, tracking her every move as she wandered around the room. There was something endlessly satisfying about watching her, even when she thought she was alone. The way she moved, unaware of my gaze—vulnerable, yet resilient. With a deep breath, I forced myself to focus. Running the Isle required more than just devotion, it demanded precision and ruthlessness.
The system had to be maintained at every level, from the coordination of our supplies and suppliers to the rituals that kept the people in line. Everything had to be accounted for. Every resource, every life on the Isle, and every booking granted to tourists. I scanned over a set of documents—mundane reports, logistical details, and requests.
Among the emails was one from Ryker, who owned the resort Lolita was employed at as well as his own more exclusive establishment. He’d requested a larger order from my butcher. I leaned back in my chair, calculating silently in my head.