Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 115619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
“Bianca. I’m begging you to understand. The thought of losing you kills me. I can’t breathe or think clearly without you. Let’s talk this out and work through our problems.” His voice is low, almost hypnotic, and already I know he's reaching the deep depths of my soul. My body is awakened by his voice and the nearness of his body. It’s pitiful how much I desire him. The crotch of my panties is already soaked, and my core tightens, begging me to give in to him. I want to, badly, but I’m reminded of how heartbroken I am by the heavy thump of my beating heart.
“Who’s to say I want to work through anything?”
“Oh, little bird.” He leans in, looming over me, one hand on the door, the other on the back of the seat. His arms cage me in. I was already caged. My heart and soul are locked away, and he has the only key.
No matter how much I want to push him away and spit in his face, all I can do is tremble as he lowers his head inch by inch. Moving closer like a cobra readying itself to strike. I watch carefully, ready to push him away or turn my face if he attempts to kiss me, but like always, he surprises me. He swerves at the last second, brushing his lips against my neck instead of my mouth. “It’s fine if you want to pretend you don't want me,” he whispers, and icy tendrils wrap around my heart. “Pretend all you want. The truth is evident to both of us.”
“What truth?” I whisper, closing my eyes, bracing myself like that will do anything to help. I'm already breaking down, melting, all that resolve disappearing in favor of the absolute inferno blazing between my thighs. Thinking with my pussy will only get my heart broken, but Callum has a way of making me forget that as he rearranges my organs.
“Love me or hate me, it doesn’t matter. We belong together.” He lifts his head enough to look me in the eyes, and I want to give in. God, I need to. I was never going to win, so what’s the point in fighting anymore?
“No.” My voice is weak, faint, like what’s left of my resolve at this point. I have to at least tell myself I tried.
His liquid gaze hardens, going cold all at once. “Maybe I need to remind you of what we have, and the only way I know I can make you feel. I’m not sure what’s happened in that head of yours over the last two days, but I already warned you that there was no going back once we crossed that bridge. You’re mine, and I will do anything I have to do to keep you.” His declaration might have been romantic, if it wasn’t filled with references that make me appear to be an object rather than a person.
“You don't want a relationship with me.” I lean back as far as I can, turning my face away. He doesn’t even give me that courtesy as his thick fingers reach out and grasp onto my chin, holding it firmly while forcing me to face him.
“Are you trying to convince me that what we have isn’t real or are you trying to convince yourself?” he whispers, his minty breath fanning across my cheek. His dark eyes try to read mine as I put up a solid wall between us. I can’t do this with him. “Please tell me you don’t think this is a game, little bird?”
“I think it’s whatever you want it to be, but that it’s not what you assume. You only want to own me, like another business or asset. You don't actually want to be with me.”
I stiffen at the touch of his free hand against my thigh. Oh, yes, this is what I need. This is what I’ve missed most. His touch—skillful, knowing, like my body was made to bend for him.
“I want all of you,” he whispers. “Your pussy. Your mouth. Your mind. Your heart. Every part of you belongs to me. Every inch of your existence is mine.”
My hiss of surprise and sudden pleasure fills the car when he caresses the curve of my ass cheek. “Every inch of you,” he chuckles before brushing his lips against mine until all I can do is whimper with need. He makes me this way. Helpless. Desperate.
I hate myself for it. I hate him. But more than anything, I hate how right he is.
“The first time I ever touched your pussy, I claimed it as mine.” His fingertips dance along the hem of my panties, where they meet the sensitive flesh of my soaked core. My hips jerk on their own, my legs parting as much as the skirt will allow. There’s too much clothing in the way. I need it off. I need to let him strip me bare and own me.