Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
“You like this, don’t you, pet?”
“Mmmmm…”
“You like it, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I admit, the word escaping me in a hapless whimper.
“You do, and you’re going to like the other things I have in mind for you too,” he says. “I want you to submit this evening, Charlie.”
His use of my first name almost seems jarring now that he has taken to calling me ‘pet’. I want the intimacy of that moniker. I like how it implies that I belong to him somehow.
Marcus has gotten under my skin quickly by welting it with his cane.
The next thing I know, a rope begins to wind around my wrists. I take a deep breath and try to compose myself. I want to show him that I am trying, but there is something about being bound that just makes me want to crawl out of my skin. I start to breathe faster and more shallowly, trying to keep it together. Ultimately, I cannot hide my distress from him.
“Easy, pet,” he murmurs, slowing his rope work.
He crouches down, takes my chin in his fingers, and inspects my face, looking deep into my eyes with an expression that makes me feel as though he can see everything that lives inside me.
“Not tonight,” he murmurs, more to himself than to me. “You’ve suffered enough, and you’ve obeyed enough. You tried hard, pet. I see that.”
I start crying. Tears well in my eyes and run down my cheeks as he gives me something I don’t think I have ever truly had: appreciation of my effort. It doesn’t matter that I couldn’t give him everything he wanted. It doesn’t matter that I’m not being perfect. My trying is enough.
I feel the rope fall away from my wrists, and then I feel him scoop me up into his arms. My legs wrap around his waist, my tail still hanging from its place in my ass as he cups me and holds me close, giving me reassurance, comfort, and praise.
And then I feel his cock sliding inside me. There are still tears in my eyes as he takes me with long, possessive strokes. He can be tender sometimes, especially after he has been harsh. Now is one of those moments that I feel not only completely taken and completely cared for, but also completely understood.
Marcus’ cock feels as though it belongs in me. My pussy wraps around him and grips him with all the passion my flesh can muster. I want this moment to last forever, this twisted connection, with the tail in my ass brushing against his balls as he holds me curled up in his lap and fucks me in the most sensual of ways.
It’s too soon to fall in love with him, but I don’t know if I can help it.
CHAPTER 6
Charlie
“Why aren’t you taking me home? Where are we going?”
I thought the night was over when he carried me out of the Embassy in his arms. I assumed he was going to take me back to my apartment. But it isn’t the grimy, rough streets of my neighborhood that I see flashing past the windows.
“I am taking you home,” he says.
“I live in the opposite direction.”
“Trust me, pet.”
Do I trust him? He’s fucked me absolutely senseless tonight. Two days in a row, my body has been made his. I don’t think I have any choice but to trust him.
The car comes to a halt, and once again, he walks around to let me out. Sitting is slightly uncomfortable thanks to the cane marks, but I feel them even more when I move.
“Come with me,” he says, taking me by the hand and leading me into a building with a man at the door in the middle of the night wearing a uniform. He gives Marcus a brief, professional nod. Security. This place has round the clock guards, not to mention the kind of frontage that usually accompanies fancy hotels.
This is a place I could never afford in a million years. The rent for these apartments has to be thousands of dollars a day. Is he taking me to his place? That would be wild. I would give so much to be inside Marcus Waterstone’s personal residence.
We get into the elevator and go up a few dozen floors. No. This isn’t where he lives. It’s very nice here, but Marcus Waterstone doesn’t live halfway up a building. There’s just no way. Marcus would no more live in the middle of a shared building than he would live in my piss-stained apartment complex.
He opens a door for me and ushers me into an apartment. This place is huge. We’re talking floor-to-ceiling windows, separate lounge and dining areas, and not one, but two bedrooms. It is furnished in a modern style that has a certain basic sterility to it. Everything you need is here, but there could be more.