Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 64176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 321(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Fine. I’ll show him.
I let go of the blanket just like he wants, and when his gaze drops along with it, I make a fist, and I smash it into his too perfect face.
8
Damian
She hesitates right at the end. If she didn’t, the hit would likely have had more of an impact.
And this right here is a key difference between men and women. They hesitate to hurt even if they themselves are in the crosshairs. Men—men like me, at least—we like the game, like when they fight, and even like when they hurt.
Her fight—and the fear in her eyes as she awaits my reaction—makes my dick hard.
As soon as I move my hand to touch the spot she hit, she scoots under my arm and heads to a door. Which door, though? All four in the room look identical.
Again, she hesitates, and at that moment, I catch her around the middle, lift her off her feet, and carry her onto the bed.
“Let go, you goddamned freak!” She fights, using her arms, legs, fingernails. Anything she can. She’ll wear herself out quickly, considering she’s already weak from the remnants of the drug, so I take it easy on her. But that turns out to be a mistake because as soon as I let my guard down, she manages to almost knee me in the balls.
I catch her leg, though, and flip her onto her belly, giving her my full weight.
She struggles to move. For as tall as she is, she’s built petite. I collect both wrists and drag them over her head before shifting them to one hand. I grip a handful of hair to force her head back so I make sure she can see me.
“Cristina,” I say, low and dangerous. My hold is firm. I won’t take a chance that she’ll smash her skull into my nose. “I thought you’d be smarter than this.”
“Let me go. You’re hurting me.” She wriggles this way and that. Is she aware of what all that movement is doing to me?
“You’re a slow learner, aren’t you?”
“Get off me! I can’t breathe, you jerk!”
I lift my torso a little and bring my cheek to hers, then grind my hips against her panty-clad ass, and she freezes.
“Don’t stop,” I whisper. “I like it.”
Silence. I feel her squeezing her ass cheeks together.
“Get off me.” This time, it’s more of a squeak than a demand. That’s good. She’s learning.
“But your ass feels so good against my dick.”
She presses her eyes shut and seals her leg. “Get off.”
“Ask nicely.”
She swallows.
I grind. And fuck, her ass does feel fucking amazing.
But she is in no way ready for me. Her head’s not even close to that yet.
“Please,” she says.
“Please get off me, Damian. I’m sorry to be insolent,” I instruct.
Her eyes open again, but she won’t look at me. “I hate you,” she says through gritted teeth.
I rotate my hips and let out a moan.
“Please get off me, Damian!”
“What’s the rest of it?”
She turns her head as much as my grip allows her and glares at me. “I’m sorry I’m insolent.”
“Close enough,” I say. Keeping hold of her wrists, I slide off her and roll her onto her back. I keep her arms over her head and look her over. Her dark nipples peek out of the tops of the bra cups, and every muscle is tensed and stretched tight.
I shift my grip to one hand and adjust my cock. I don’t miss her eyes following the movement. Don’t miss her little tongue darting out to lick those lips, her body preparing itself even if her mind isn’t ready yet.
I need to get my head clear, though. Now isn’t the time for these games.
Getting up on my knees, I bring her arms to her sides and straddle her, trapping her arms but keeping my weight on my knees so I’m not crushing her. I look at her, brush her hair back from her face. She is fucking beautiful.
“What are you doing?” She struggles to pull free. She won’t, but she can try.
“I can be gentle with you, or I can be harsh. It’s mostly up to you.”
She doesn’t reply as I study the scar across her chest. It must have hurt. I try to get my brain around the fact that we were both there that night. Both in our own personal hell.
I meet her eyes to find her watching me intently as though she will snatch any thought she can. “I’ve watched you grow up, you know that. Watched you become a woman.”
She swallows, eyes wide and shiny with unspent tears.
“I made sure you were well cared for.”
“Why?”
“Because I take care of my things, and you were always mine. Always.”
She sinks into the bed a little at that.
“Now let me tell you something, and you need to listen very carefully, do you understand?”