Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 153544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 768(@200wpm)___ 614(@250wpm)___ 512(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 768(@200wpm)___ 614(@250wpm)___ 512(@300wpm)
His free hand slides over my aching breasts and he cups one violently. “Tell me, were you thinking of me when you wore this red dress or was it for Gareth?”
Pleasure starts where he’s touching my breasts and ends in my core, and all I can do is focus on it.
“Answer the fucking question, Glyndon. Is he the one you wanted to feel up these pretty little tits and make these perky nipples all hard?” He pinches one and I gasp. “You always wanted the nice guy; too bad you got the fucking villain.”
“It wasn’t him…” I choke out.
“Come again?” He loosens his grip so I can breathe properly.
“The dress is for…you,” I admit on a breath.
I think that will delight him, but his face remains on the edge.
“It was for me, huh?” His hand slides from my breast to my hip, then he shoves the skirt of my dress to my waist, exposing my thighs and underwear. “You even put on lace panties and came prepared to be fucked.” He rubs his fingers against them and I can’t pretend to close my eyes out of pure mortification. “Are you sure it’s for me? Or are you saying that to please me?”
I shake my head.
“The thought of you dolling up to seduce my brother drives me fucking insane. The thought of you imagining his fucking fingers on my pussy while you were cleaning and dressing it makes me see red.”
His fingers tighten on my throat and it’s like I’m gasping for air through a straw again.
And the most embarrassing part is, my undies are utterly soaked, and I think he feels it. I think he knows exactly the type of effect he has on me.
“Did you think I’d let him touch what’s mine and live to talk about it?” He tugs me close by the neck and tilts his head down until his lips nearly touch mine and I can see my reflection in his savage eyes.
Do I really look that aroused?
I yelp as he yanks down my underwear and thrusts three fingers inside me at the same time.
A choked sob tears from my throat, and although it should be due to pain or discomfort, it’s actually due to relief.
I’ve been in a constant mode of stimulation ever since he strangled me and it’s only gotten worse with time.
“Feel that? That’s your cunt welcoming my fingers home. That’s your cunt knowing who the fuck owns it, touches it, and brings it pleasure. If someone dares to look at it, let alone contemplate touching it, they’ll be an MIA statistic, am I clear?”
A whimper rips from me and it’s sick.
I’m sick.
He’s clearly threatening to hurt people, but I can’t seem to take that into account as I drip all over his fingers, rocking my hips unconsciously at first, then intentionally.
“This is my pussy.” Thrust. “My property.” Thrust. “Fucking mine.”
A strangled gasp spills from my throat as my core pulses for the orgasm.
But just when I’m about to scream, he pulls out his fingers.
My eyes widen, staring at him, then at the place that he definitely didn’t satisfy.
“You don’t get to come after that little show of yours. This isn’t a reward.”
A frustrated sound echoes in the air and I realize it’s mine when he picks me up and throws me on the bed.
I can breathe for the first time, but I don’t focus on the animal-like sounds escaping me or the ache between my legs.
There’s something much worse.
Killian.
He tugs his shirt over his head, revealing the hard planes of his abs and stomach. Under the current tension, his physique appears massive, a weapon that can inflict both pleasure and pain.
Even the birds with broken feathers flying up his side appear more ominous. Destructive.
Killian proceeds to remove his trousers and boxers with infinite ease. He actually takes his time with the task, as if knowing exactly how nervous his methodical calm makes me.
I slide back against the mattress. “W-what do you think you’re doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” He steps toward me with the grace of a black panther. “Finishing what I started.”
“Killian…”
“Yes, Glyndon?”
“Stop… I mean, let’s talk about this.”
“I’m done talking.”
“I’ll scream.”
“By all means, do. No one will hear you, and if they do, we can fuck on their blood if you’re not squeamish.”
I think I’m going to throw up. I wish this was him trying to scare me and that deep down, these were empty words, but this is Killian, after all.
He’s on me now, his hand fisting my dress. I try to stop him as he pulls the piece of clothing over my head and throws it away. I try to fight as he unclasps my bra and slings it to the floor. And in my attempts, I don’t think about what I’m doing—my hands flying everywhere until I’m naked in his arms.