Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 50828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
“I’m yours,” I gasp out.
“Yes.” He fucks me harder. “And?”
I close my eyes against both the knee-buckling bliss and humiliation. “My pussy is yours.”
“A lesson I will teach you again and again. Tell me what else is mine.” He prods my weeping clit with his fingers.
“My orgasms are yours,” I gasp out.
“That’s right. And I will hold onto what’s mine, Isabella. Do you hear me?”
In some vague corner of my brain, a scathing protest forms. My need for orgasm is a wet blanket on my objections. “Yes.”
“Good girl. Want to come?”
Why is Nathan asking? The bastard knows the answer.
“Yes,” I pant.
“Hmm, you’re perfect, baby girl. Do it. Come.” He slams inside me again. “Come all over my cock.”
Then he unleashes the passion he’s been restraining and overwhelms me with sensation. His lips glide across my skin while he tugs on my hair. I’m shocked by how much his caveman insistence and my stinging scalp arouse me. All the while, he swirls insistent fingers over my needy clit while he drives into me over and over.
“Nathan…” I cry just under my breath.
He shows no mercy. “That’s it. Take my cock, baby girl… Give me your pleasure.”
I grip his desk tighter, feeling my grasp on reality slip. Tingles spread. Need pools, mercilessly drowning me in desire that’s a breath from exploding.
“Oh, fuck, baby. Fuck,” he growls. “Now.”
Denying that voice—and him—is impossible.
The climax he’s withheld for so long gathers and converges before it detonates inside me in an orgasm unlike anything I’ve ever imagined. I buck and bite my lip to hold in my cries, but it’s useless. My body is no longer my own. It belongs to Nathan, especially as he ramps me up, squeezing every ounce of pleasure from me. His strokes get impossibly rougher. He gets impossibly harder. Then, holy cow, his teeth latch onto my shoulder. He pulls harder on my hair. The pain drives my ecstasy to new heights before culminating with a final spasm of my body and his rough groan in my ear.
My body is still shuddering when he unwinds his hand from my tresses and pulls his fingers off my clit. I can’t form words. I can only lie across his desk, trying to catch my breath.
What the hell has this man done to me? When he touches me, my body isn’t my own. He’s coercing me to the altar for all the wrong reasons, and we’ve had sex a mere handful of times. But none of that matters. My pussy has decided that Nathan Price is its master and owner. No matter how the rest of me revolts and resists, he manages to unravel me every time he touches me.
Swallowing the tight lump of defeat in my throat, I peel my torso off his desk. Beside me, he plops the used condom in the trash, and I hear the zip of his fly and the clink of his belt buckle. Then he wraps his arms around me and pulls me back against his chest possessively. I tense, despising the way I both simultaneously hate and love his embrace. Worse, he’s left me so emotionally raw, like he scrubbed my psyche with steel wool. Even if I don’t want his touch, I need it.
Suddenly, he turns me in his arms and takes my hand. Before I can blink, he slides a blinding diamond on the ring finger of my left hand. Holy cow, it’s giant. At least a few carats of oval sparkle on a thick band encrusted with more diamonds. There’s nothing subtle about this ring. It’s a statement of possession. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love it.
“It’s beautiful,” I murmur before I can stop myself.
“It reminded me of you.” He tips my chin up and takes my mouth in a deep kiss that seems to penetrate to my soul.
When he pulls away, I cling, craving more—until I remind myself he’s forcing me to be his wife. “But it’s unnecessary. You’ve had your revenge. I work for you. I live with you. I have sex with you… What else do you want?”
“Everything. I’m just getting started. Pack a suitcase. Tonight, we leave for Vegas. Tomorrow, we’re getting married.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
My heart pounds two hours later when I sneak out of the office and slide my key into Eric’s apartment door.
Thankfully, my ex won’t be home since his father usually commands his sons have lunch with him every Thursday at noon. This should be the perfect time to gather the last of my clothes and possessions, including my mother’s pendant.
I tiptoe down the hall and pull my suitcase from the closet, then lift my clothes—hangers and all—and toss them inside. Toiletries follow. God, I’ve missed my skincare… Then I turn and snatch my body wash, shampoo, and conditioner from the shower before tossing then all into my bag. I retrieve my birth certificate and passport from my nightstand, then turn to fetch my jewelry from the dresser.