The Bride (The Boss #3) Read Online Abigail Barnette

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Contemporary, Erotic, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Boss Series by Abigail Barnette
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Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
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I rolled my dress down the rest of the way, and he stopped me when I pushed my thumbs into the waistband of my silky black thong.

“Leave that,” he said on a ragged whisper of breath. “Go get your collar.”

I retrieved the platinum band from my purse and brought it to him, presented reverently on my upraised palms.

“Get on your knees,” he ordered, pointing to a spot on the floor in front of the sofa. He sat there, legs spread so that I was forced to kneel between his feet.

I kept my eyes cast downward. If we were going for full submission, this is what he would expect of me.

“Pick up your hair.” His voice was a deceptive caress, so gentle and loving that all I wanted was to please him, though I knew how deliciously cruel he would be later. I gathered the hair at my nape with both hands and held it up as he positioned the collar around my neck. The cold touch of the platinum against my skin, the familiar weight pulled answering pulses from my groin. I was instantly excited, instantly ready for him. It was shamelessly Pavlovian; I was conditioned.

“Look at me,” he ordered in his low, serious voice. I raised my head, and when our gazes met, he snapped the clasp closed. My breath skittered between my lips, and I forced my eyes open despite my longing to close them, to moan in anticipatory ecstasy.

He stroked my cheek with the pad of his thumb then traced the tip along my bottom lip. At the slightest pressure, I opened my mouth and sucked his thumb in, down to the knuckle.

He pulled his hand back. “I didn’t give you permission.”

“I’m sorry, Sir.” I really was sorry, it wasn’t a coy play-along. This was a deeper level, and I wanted my ever action to reflect mindfulness of that. I wanted to please him.

The consequences would be harsher tonight. Though I wanted desperately to know what my punishment would be, if any, I kept studiously still. I didn’t even let myself breathe too heavily.

He got up and walked away, leaving me there, not bothering to tell me to stay, because he knew I would.

“On our first night together here,” he began, wandering idly around the sitting area. “I had no idea what to expect when I walked through that door. I thought maybe some sexy lingerie, or that I would find you naked in my bed. Another part of me feared you wouldn’t be here. And yet, I stepped through that door and found this gorgeous, incredibly sexy woman with her legs spread, fingering her beautiful cunt.”

The named part clenched at the picture his words painted in my mind.

“There are very few things in life that surprise me,” he continued, and only the direction of his voice gave me a clue as to where he was. “But you…you surprise me every day.”

“Thank you, Sir,” I whispered, and I closed my eyes. I wondered what he played at. He was making me anticipate my punishment, that much was clear, but I couldn’t tell if he planned to punish me or torment me with the possibility.

“Shall I surprise you tonight, Sophie?” he asked, his voice full of dark, unspoken promises.

“I-I would like that, Sir.”

“I am going upstairs, to investigate what you’ve brought for me. You will stay there, and stay still, until I return.” I heard him take a few of the stairs up to the loft before calling to me, “You know, I’d like you to count your breaths while you wait.”

I couldn’t imagine why, but I did as he asked. At ten breaths, I noticed my inhalations had become deeper. At twenty, my mind went with them, deeper still. At thirty, I was no longer kneeling on the carpet, but far from myself. Though my body was tense with anticipation, my mind was perfectly still. I was waiting. That was my only task, and by the time I reached fifty breaths, then a hundred, I was nearly euphoric at the thought of my next command. My chest hitched, my fingers flexed and clenched rhythmically beside my thighs. Between my legs, a hot, heavy desire bloomed and flourished. I needed him, his stern, commanding voice, his orders that I followed unquestioningly.

We had come so far from the night we’d shared in this room. Not just as a couple, but as a Dom and sub. Our deepened intimacy in those roles bled into every corner of our relationship. I wasn’t sure we would have the same relationship without this aspect that came so naturally to both of us.

He kept me waiting because he could, and that high of total control thrilled him as much as complete surrender thrilled me.

“I’m impressed,” he said as he came slowly down the stairs. I heard the crack of the leather flogger against the palm of his hand. I preferred a flogger with thicker tails. It was a heavier strike, a different kind of pain from thinner leather or rubber spaghetti. My skin tingled at the thought of the agony to come. I loved it, I hated it, I couldn’t live without it if I tried.


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