Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 141255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Her grip loosened on my shirt and I quickly knew why. She slipped her hand into the waistband of my shorts and then she was gripping my rock-hard cock. Fuck.
“Felicia.”
“Please don’t call me that,” she pleaded.
“What’s your real name?” I asked. She hadn’t let go of my cock yet and fuck but I was hard. How could I not be?
She was quiet a minute and then said, “Please don’t make me tell you. I’m not allowed to.”
“Hands off.”
She shuddered, then her thumb stroked over the tip. “I can make you feel good.”
“I’m sure you could.” I grabbed her wrist and tried to pull. She gripped tighter. I didn’t wanna be rough with her. Wow. So she was an obedient slave girl, but she wouldn’t let go of my cock? Just my luck.
“Let go.”
“Please, Dare?”
“I’m not taking advantage of you. Let go of it.”
“You’re not. I’m offering. I need it. I haven’t…” she didn’t finish.
“You’ve got some sort of hero worship, babe. I got you outta there and you’re developing some sense of obligation here. I don’t want that.”
“My hair is red and I love to fuck. That’s what you wanted, right? I love to fuck, Master. I really, really do. I’d keep up with you, whatever you want, any way you want, I–” she squeezed, stroking upwards.
“Let go of my cock, babe. Seriously.”
She took her hand away and moved off my chest but not far away, just beside me. She was quiet for a beat and then said, “You don’t want me?”
“I don’t.”
I could feel her shame. Her distress filled the room. This girl had been assessed and appraised for her sexual value and my telling her she had none to me? It had to hurt.
“Sweetheart, you’re beautiful. You are totally what I’d go for. But I won’t go there. Not takin’ advantage of you. Your head isn’t in the right place after all they did to you and yeah, a few months ago, you beggin’ me like this, I would’ve. I would’ve fucked you in a heartbeat but where I’m at in my life right now, I can’t. Won’t.”
“Oh.”
“You okay? I’m gonna go back to the living room.”
“Can you stay?”
It was a mistake to keep getting in bed with her. I knew it. I told myself we were tired and it was a big bed and nothing was gonna happen but I knew it was a mistake.
“Keep your hands and your mouth to yourself, all right?”
“I will,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
“Let’s try to get some sleep.”
“Don’t cry,” he said softly a few minutes later. “You’re gonna be okay.”
I wanted to believe that. I didn’t mean to make my crying obvious. I thought he’d fallen asleep.
“You don’t have to fuck to survive anymore.”
He sure hit the nail on the head.
“Could I have my collar back, Master?”
“What?” he spat. He sounded disgusted.
“My collar. If you put it back on me, I’ll sleep better. I keep freaking out inside and if I have the collar on it’ll help me know they can’t take me back because I’m yours. In the dreams the collar gone is why they can get to me but…”
He stormed out. I felt my chin trembling.
A few minutes later I didn’t know if he had gone to the other room or not. I was driving him away, he’d get sick of my crap, he’d send me away. I squeezed my eyes shut tight and tried to get my heart to settle down, to push the panic away.
The collars at the club that were single strand were the collars for girls available to all patrons. Double-strand collars were slaves booked for the night to a specific patron or party. The triple strand collars were for girls who were owned. Mine looked more like a choker but it had the design of the collars, in essence. Any visitor knew by looking at a woman’s throat whether they could have her or not. It was always respected.
My throat had been covered with a different coded collar for the past month and a half, the black X advising that I was off limits, that I belonged to someone who had not yet claimed me. In the past, I’d spent most of my time in single strand collars and plenty of time in double-strand collars. My first seven months there was spent with a double collar and it was often attached to a leash.
The minute Dare put that triple strand jeweled necklace on me at the resort it felt different. I’d been waiting for that moment for a long time. It was beautiful; it meant I was at Point C.
I really felt like it might send the nightmares away. I hadn’t had dreams in over a year, not since Mr. Frost died. I hadn’t dreamt until Dario Ferrano strolled into that room in his tailored suit with his stormy blue eyes, his olive-toned skin, that beautiful body, but now the nightmares were back and they were absolutely horrific.