Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“Interlace your fingers,” he instructed. “That’ll be more comfortable for you. You’re going to spend a good deal of time in this position.”
I closed my mouth. My breath puffed in and out of my nose as he studied my face and I tried to guess from the set of his brow what he meant. Behind my head, my fingers obeyed his command, twining together over my hair.
“Why?” I finally whispered. Christian’s eyes narrowed very slightly. My heart skipped a beat with sudden fear. “Why, sir?” I tried.
His eyes crinkled with the little smile. He took half a step back, so that he could look down and survey my whole body. The movement of his eyes, up and down all of me, my body clad only in the lingerie he had paid for, gave me the beginning of the answer. I felt my cheeks go red at the realization.
“I’m going to teach you that your body belongs to me,” he said simply. “Much of the time your hands would only get in the way of my enjoyment.”
I felt my features twist into a mask of utter conflict, my eyebrows contracting so painfully that I wondered briefly if they might get stuck that way. I cast my eyes down Christian’s tall, muscular frame, all the way to his feet, suddenly unable to keep looking him in the eye.
Him. The billionaire. My sponsor.
Why the hell had I messaged him? Had it actually happened just this morning, and had I actually gone on the date with that other guy… Ben, my brain told me after I had to spend a full second just trying to remember the name in the dominant presence of Christian Guzman… had I actually shaken his hand off my ass and sent him packing just last night?
Only to message the man who had punished me and taken my virginity with no apparent compunction or concern for my feelings on the matter. Only to take off my clothes as I waited for his arrival, and to give him full access to my apartment—and of course to me.
Obviously it must have something to do with horniness. But how could being horny push me this deep into the seeming insanity of what had just happened, and the words Christian had just said?
I noticed his right hand rising and reaching out, very slowly, toward me, as if he thought me a wild animal in need of very careful treatment. As if a sudden movement might send me flying for the door, or maybe even make me extend my claws and go for my keeper’s eyes.
I watched the hand move through the space between us. Christian turned his fingers upward as he reached for me, and I let out a little sob when I understood, only a microsecond before my sponsor put his hand on my pussy, where he meant to touch me, and what it should teach me.
My hips jerked, thrusting forward to beg his hand for more. I swallowed hard, and my eyes rose again to his handsome face, to find him looking straight back at me. His dark gaze studied me closely, giving the lie to the idea that this man didn’t care what I felt about his dominating me.
Down below, he held me gently, making me feel like my pussy had become the wild creature, small and frightened, shorn of the fur that protected it and dressed in a lacy wrapping, ready for its taming by its new master.
In a soft, gentle voice he asked a question that showed he could indeed, in some vague way at least, read my mind.
“Why did you message me, Leah?”
CHAPTER 24
Leah
I didn’t know the answer to the question, and so I did something else without understanding why: I bolted for the door. From the perspective of the rational, intelligent—very intelligent, actually, they had told me in school despite my failure to apply myself—part of my brain, I could see the absolute stupidity of it. Christian literally stood between me and the door. I had given him control of the apartment; he could lock the door so I couldn’t escape.
He didn’t even have to do that. He just grabbed me around the waist the moment I attempted to twist away. He picked me up and put me over his shoulder and started to walk toward the bedroom. I didn’t even have the presence of mind to kick my legs or hit his back—or maybe the terror of his dropping me, if I actually succeeded in getting free, kept me from struggling.
More likely, said the scornful observer in my head as I started to feel the strange, half-pleasant, half-frightening detachment again, Christian’s firm hand on my nearly naked ass ensured my compliance. It felt much too good to be manhandled like that, with a billionaire’s firm hand on my backside, securing me in place over his shoulder—like in the movies, like in the half-remembered dreams I had had every night since he had disciplined me for the first time.