Total pages in book: 15
Estimated words: 14237 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 71(@200wpm)___ 57(@250wpm)___ 47(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 14237 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 71(@200wpm)___ 57(@250wpm)___ 47(@300wpm)
Her eyes shot to where I unhooked the leather, no doubt remembering the many times I’d had her spread over my desk, her hips in the air, and the crack of my belt landing against her ass.
“Go on…” I whispered, my French accent thickening like it always did when she tempted me. “Tell me why I should tolerate you being mad at me for saving yet another slave and doing what I must to repent for what I am.”
“What you are?” With a shudder, she spread her legs, planting her heels on my rock-hard thighs. “What you are is mine. My monster. And I want to get mauled.” The gown fell away, leaving swathes of skin from collarbone to pussy. The swell of her breasts teased me, the Q branded over her heart enraged me, the inked sparrows flying over her shoulder undid me, and the wetness glimmering between her thighs fucking broke me.
I groaned. “Je vais me régaler de toi, ma femme.” (I’m going to feast on you, wife).
“Promise?” Her hand trailed down her belly, heading south.
Unzipping my slacks, I pulled my cock out, digging my thumb painfully into the tip. I couldn’t look away as she swirled her clit. Her long, wavy blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, the soft light from my desk lamp caping her in shadows and secrets.
Tess had always been beautiful. Even when she’d broken my black fucking heart, she’d been the most stunning creature I’d ever seen.
But now that she was my wife?
Now that she was mine in every way—blooded, bonded, and betrothed…I couldn’t look at another woman without comparing them. Comparing their strength to hers. Their light to hers. Her ability to make me feel when everyone else in the world made me shut down.
“Don’t you want a taste, maître?”
“Merde.” My heart pounded. My ears rushed with white noise. I wanted her moaning in pleasure and screaming in pain. I wanted to hug her and hurt her at the same time. I wanted her blood on my tongue and her cum on my fingers. I both loved and hated her. Her power. Her fight. Her undeniable claim over me.
The one girl who’d come to me unbroken.
The one girl to break me in return.
She moaned as her finger dipped inside. The nightgown darkened beneath her ass with her need.
Swallowing hard, I growled, “If you get that paperwork wet, you’re in trouble.”
Moaning, she tipped her head back. “You know what your threats do to me.”
“Fuck yes, I do.” I shot up from my chair, fisting my cock with one hand and snatching her hip with the other. Yanking her to the edge of the desk, paper fluttered to the floor, but I didn’t give a fuck.
Tess deserved to pay for making me this senseless. She needed another endless night in chains while I did whatever I damn well wanted to her.
I wanted to taste.
But not the part of her she was expecting.
Grabbing the sharp letter opener glinting by my lamp, I dropped my head between her thighs. The scent of her arousal made a ripple of need work up my cock. She always did this to me. Made me too eager. Too willing to blur the lines between husband and beast.
Her breath turned thin and quick as I blew a stream of air on her clit.
“Q. Yes. God, please…”
Keeping my eyes locked on the most vulnerable part of her—the part no one else would ever see or touch unless they wanted to have their heart ripped out by my bare hands—I dragged the letter opener along the inside of her trembling thigh.
She stiffened at the sharpness.
She stopped breathing as I dug the point into the crease where her pussy met her leg. Such a delicate place. Paper thin skin, easily damaged, and beautifully bruised with spiderwebs of arteries and veins.
“You couldn’t give me an hour to finish, esclave? You had to come and interrupt me.”
“I missed you.”
“I wouldn’t admit that if I were you.” I dipped my head and ran my tongue from her wet entrance to her tight little clit. “I’ll get a god complex.”
“Don’t care.” She shuddered as I nipped her, dragging my tongue back to her entrance, my hand tightening around the letter opener as a flush of her desire coated my lips.
“You don’t care that I hold your life in my hands?” I bit her again, making her cry out. “You don’t care that I get off knowing I could so easily hurt you?”
She squirmed on my desk, locking onto the two words that’d become an awful aphrodisiac between us. Between a sadist and his masochist. Between two monsters who’d found each other in the dark.
“Hurt me,” she breathed.
“I thought you’d never ask.” I fell on her pussy, lapping up every drop of need, biting, laving, driving my tongue as deep as it would go. Her moans came quick with intoxicating gasps.