Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
“So why, Lula? Why were you so foolish? I’m sure your cousin would back you up—”
“There’s a mole!” My voice rings out, too bright and loud, and I bite my lip to keep from saying any more. Victor’s not a judge I have to convince by making my case. He’s my captor, and every second, every hour, he worms deeper into my psyche.
“Ah.” Victor lets his hand fall away. “A mole. That explains why Stephanos has survived all this time.”
“He’s a rat.”
“Who attracts other rats. Have you uncovered this mole?”
“If I had, I would’ve had backup. I wouldn’t have done something so. . . so stupid.”
“Suicidal.” His voice is flat, but he presses himself to my back. I rise, and he grips my hips, pulling me gently against him. He’s hard—he’s always hard. It takes an inhuman effort to sate him, and he’s been holding back during my torture sessions. I arch my back, leaning into him, but he doesn’t kick my feet apart and take me. He picks up the soap and lets his hands roam up my chest, sliding over my skin under the pretense of washing me. I hold my breath and let him touch me. It feels wonderful, and I know this is part of his plan to break me. In a minute, he’ll drop the soap and take up the straight razor, gliding it over my skin and smoothing my stubble away. There’s no part of me that he hasn’t thoroughly touched. No part that he doesn’t own.
“That was the worst part,” he rasps in my ear after a long while. I blink and realize I’ve drifted off. I’m unsteady on my feet, still leaning against him as the shower beats down in a gentle rain. He must have a massive hot water tank.
“What was?”
“Sitting as the doctor stitched me up, learning you’d wandered into Stephanos’ lair wearing nothing but two guns and my coat.”
“I wore heels and stockings too,” I correct, not wanting him to miss out on the full visual. He plucks my nipples in retaliation, and I welcome the sting. I need something to pull me out of my haze.
“I waited and waited for word of what happened to you.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
I could deny that I do, but it’s obvious. He wanted me alive so he could kill me himself. Sometimes, when I wake up on my pallet in the cage, I’m surprised I’m still alive.
“And then I learned you were still alive and safe. Secured in the Regis family’s stronghold.”
“Not so secure,” I mutter, remembering how easily he found me.
“There is no fortress that can keep me out. It was only a matter of time.” He skates a hand down my front until he cups my pussy. He pushes two fingers into me and tugs forward, roughly massaging my G-spot until my damn body shakes like the last autumn leaf on a branch. “And while I searched for you, I imagined what I’d do to you. How I’d train you to please me.”
As his fingers delve deep, stretching me, he rubs the heel of his palm over my clit, frigging me in rough, scrubbing movements. Like my orgasm will be a punishment. With my sex raw from the orgasms he gave me earlier, maybe it will be. “How I’d punish you for leaving. For nearly throwing your life away.”
“Not for trying to kill you?”
“No, Lula.” He releases my cunt, leaving me on the brink. It’s both a relief and a torment. I grit my teeth to bite back my moan. “We both know you didn’t try to kill me.”
“I shot you.”
“In the gut.” He takes a handful of my wet hair and tugs my head back. In this position, I’m vulnerable. But it feels good, too, the pinch of pain at my skull from his fist in my hair and the water washing over my upturned face.
His teeth score my throat.
“I’ve never killed before. Maybe that’s why I missed Stephanos.” My voice wobbles. After all my practice and long hours at the range, I proved too soft-hearted. Too weak.
“Perhaps. But you didn’t miss me. You could’ve shot me between the eyes. Instant death.” He guides my head down so he can take the nape of my neck between his teeth. Like a lion disciplining a lioness. “Or in the heart. But you didn’t, did you?”
“Maybe I wanted you to suffer.”
“You left your mark on me, but you wanted me to live? Because deep down you knew.”
I jerk back, jabbing my elbows into his solid frame. I haven’t fought him before, wanting to wait until he’s truly off guard, and this isn’t a real or very serious attempt. We’re both naked in the shower, but he’s twice as large as me and more confident in hand-to-hand combat. An elbow in the gut won’t incapacitate him, not even if I get lucky and poke him right in his healing wound. My struggles are futile.