Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
I cry and wail, half the time with my eyes clamped shut so I can feel the muscles working, the other half with them open, staring into the black sky or stealing glimpses of the man trapping my body against the ground with his own. And to add to the pure bliss, his face and eyes are a mask of depravity, of sadistic pleasure, as he stares down at me, his eyebrows cocked in a way that asks, “When will you realize, little one, you aren’t getting out of this alive?”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
SAVANNAH
When my strength is nearly nonexistent and my struggling wanes, I’m picked up and moved so swiftly I don’t know how it happened. In a blink, I’m staring up at rafters and unfinished walls. My wrists are trapped once again above my head but pressed to cold laminate flooring, and my mouth is covered as it was before. But something is… different.
I don’t have to wait long before I realize exactly what that difference is.
And it’s not anything I see.
It’s not anything I hear.
It’s not even the fact that it would be physically impossible for my captor’s hands to hold me down, gag me, and be tugging my tattered romper and soaking wet panties down my legs, as someone is now. No, that takes more than two hands, and I count four.
It’s the smell. The panty-melting, pheromone-like scent of Number 6 soap, Old Spice Deodorant, and faded cologne with notes of wood that has nothing to do with the bare lumber on all sides of me.
My eyes then lift to confirm what my soul already knows—its mate is here—but he’s too far back, staying out of my line of vision, holding me captive just as firmly as his best friend had so I can’t look back at him.
Which shifts my eyes in the opposite direction, where I can see just a hint of Bram’s blond head before it suddenly disappears. I don’t have the capability to even tilt my chin downward to track his movement. So it comes as a complete shock when, with no warning, I feel him swipe his fingers between the lips of my pussy.
And although I felt out of it and depleted just moments ago, my fight or flight instinct is flipped on with that single finger on its switch. I tap into whatever backup energy I have and try with even more fervor than before to get away, all while hoping like hell they don’t let me go.
I’m ashamed of the amount of wetness he finds there as he growls, the sound vibrating just above my flesh, as he repeats the action, this time bringing the slickness to my clit and circling it with the lightest touch. And it must zap the entirety of my strength reserves, because I melt into the floor and pull in a shuddering breath.
My knees instinctively try to close around his hand, but his knee between my own keeps my legs apart.
His hand leaves my over-aroused pussy, and I fight the urge to groan in disappointment when I’m supposed to be relieved, as I hear him rumble, “Mmm, no wonder you eat this sweet cunt every chance you get.”
My entire body alights with heat, then catches flame when I hear the deep voice come from behind me. “You’re goddamn right I do.”
Just knowing Bram placed those arousal-covered fingers into his mouth to taste me, not even seeing it for myself, gives me that delicious feeling of discomfort once again. I suck in a breath when his now slick finger plunges inside me with no way of catching any kind of warning sign, and I feel my pussy grip it in response.
I can’t help but compare the differences, after only feeling one man’s touch for over a decade. His fingers are thicker and longer than my husband’s, making me feel fuller than I usually do when I’m being readied for something larger. And I cry out against Rome’s hand, shocked at the mind-melting pleasure as Bram easily finds the sweet spot inside me that’s only ever been correctly touched by one man before this night. He swivels the pad of his finger and curls it in a way that makes me see stars, even though we’ve left the open night sky behind. Every touch is enhanced by the feeling of helplessness from being completely immobilized, and shockingly, every touch is nothing but pleasure filled. And I know, even though externally I try to keep up the mask that I’m hating all of this, my guys see straight through it and keep going.
I should be fighting harder. I should be twisting and turning and clawing my way out of their grips, but instead, I let out a long moan behind Rome’s hand, my knees spreading wider to give Bram’s hand better access. That one finger is working magic inside me, so different from what I’ve ever felt before, but registering as soul-stealing pleasure. My hips even begin to move on instinct, grinding against my captor’s knuckles for friction against my clit, and when he adds a second thick finger, the breath leaves my lungs out the tiny space for my nostrils, and my abs clench, but tight grip of my husband’s hand holding my wrists keeps me from moving an inch.