Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 108119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
I didn’t know what to expect.
That she would stab me.
Drop the knife.
Or yell.
Maybe cry some more.
She was perfectly still and then she shoved me away from her and fucking drove the knife directly into my right thigh.
And maybe I was insane.
Because my first response.
Was to kiss her senseless.
Our tongues tangled as she shoved me back against the mattress, I was bleeding all over the white duvet, could feel the tip of the knife lodged in my muscle, twisting the fibers.
And I still kissed her.
She pulled back, eyes blazing, lips puffy. “Doubt me again, and I’m aiming higher.”
I bit down on my lower lip to conceal my smile, then reached for the knife, pulled it quickly out of my thigh, and threw it against the wall.
The tip stuck above the dresser, blood dripping from the metal making a gruesome red smear down the white wall.
“You should put something on that.” She suddenly looked nervous, licking her lips, looking down at my leg, when all I could think about was the fact that she’d stabbed me and how erotic it had been.
The pain, for once.
Was good.
My hands weren’t covered in black gloves.
They weren’t shaking.
The pain was in my leg, not in my hands as they touched her.
The pain throbbed, it numbed, it consumed.
I nipped at her lower lip and flipped her onto her back against the stained mess of the duvet as more blood dripped from my thigh. “Later.”
“You’re bleeding everywhere,” she pointed out.
I kissed her harder and came up for her. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have stabbed me.”
“You told me you didn’t trust me to my face and tied me to a bed an hour after giving me the best orgasm of my life. And then you gave me a sharp object. What did you think would happen? A parade?”
I barked out a laugh. “Yeah, something like that, only you were supposed to be naked, and the parade was you walking in front of me while I watched and judged.”
“You’re.” She made a face and shoved at my chest.
I kissed her again, making my way down her neck, licking behind her ear while she bucked off the bed. “I’m what?”
“Evil.”
“Thank you.” I bit the soft spot between neck and shoulder then pulled the simple white shirt over her head.
“Wasn’t a compliment.”
“Maybe not to a sane person…” I countered, reaching for her breasts, cupping them, and imagining a world where I could lock myself in the bedroom with her and do nothing but touch, taste, feel.
My excitement was short lived.
Because she was suddenly reaching for me.
I batted her hands away.
She was persistent.
“Do we need to get the knife again?” I threatened.
“Did you want the other thigh to match?” she countered through clenched teeth.
I smirked. “Maybe.”
“You like me.” She said it like it was a statement not a question.
“Yes.”
“You like kissing me.”
Where was she going with this? “Yes.”
“You like touching me?”
“Is this a test? Am I passing or failing?” I wondered out loud.
“I like you too. I like kissing you. I like touching you. The only part of the test that’s pass-fail is if you let me make you feel good.”
“Can’t.” I shook my head. “Your brother… what he did, what you… I can’t imagine a world where you would ever be okay with touching me and not being completely disgusted.”
“Disgusted,” she repeated. “Do you really believe that?”
“I know that,” I rasped. “I’ve lived that. I’ve seen it all. Women, the only way they come back from it, the only way is through the fence.”
“You’re not making any sense…”
“The American dream, the perfect doting husband, who turns off the lights during sex, buys her a dog, tells her they don’t need sex unless it’s his birthday or even Christmas. There’s exactly one position they do it in, and he almost always gets off within a few minutes while she lays there and mentally counts down the seconds until he’s done.”
“What are you talking about?” She cupped my face her hands were so soft against my skin.
“All I’m saying…” I locked eyes with her. “…is that I am not the sort of man who helps you get over your fears in the bedroom. I’m the reason for them.”
“Lie,” she whispered. “And my brother he never… he tried, multiple times, but he never…”
What exactly was she saying?
“I’m a virgin.”
I jerked away like she’d stung me. “What was that?”
“Virgin.” Her cheeks pinked. “He tried, and he touched me, and he did horrible things, but the actual act of sex, he could never do it. And then he’d blame me for it and call me a whore and other things…” She shuddered.
“I’m going to cut off his dick and feed it to him.” Damn! I meant to think that not say it.
She just stared at me and smiled. “Such pretty promises.”
I knew she wasn’t going to take no for an answer, just like I knew I was going to bleed even more if I kept jerking away from her.