Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
The fear of the unknown, of him truly hurting me finally becomes a reality. The fight drains out of me, and every second without precious air brings me closer to the dark.
My hands slip from his arms and eventually fall to the mattress beside my body. My lungs burn; my brain screams at me to move, to do something, but I’m helpless. Black spots fill my vision as I try to hold on a little longer.
“You should see yourself right now, Ely. Your eyes are like frigid pools of water shimmering in the sun, and they look even prettier filled with fear. Fear put there by me.” I want to respond, to tell him to fuck off, to fly a kite to Mars, but I’m barely hanging on, afraid of what he might do to me once I’m unconscious.
The harder I try to hold on, the further I slip away. My eyelids flutter closed, and then open, and I can barely make out the shape of him in front of me, but I swear, before the entire world goes dark, he leans in and ghosts his lips against mine.
“It’s time to let go…nighty-night, Prey,” he taunts. “Enjoy your reprieve because when you wake up, you’ll discover I’m so much more of a monster than you ever imagined I could be. I’m ready to play…are you?”
7
Sebastian
What the fuck am I doing?
Exactly what I fucking shouldn’t be doing, that’s what. Ely is nothing to me—less than nothing. Her existence in my life is a reminder of how trapped I am.
If that’s true, why do you always have to remind yourself that you hate her?
My subconscious is playing Russian roulette today, and I’m considering killing the fucker. Elyse’s only real fault in all of this is that she happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, and that’s only because her father manipulated her presence there in the first place. It’s not like she wandered in of her own accord. I have no other reason to hate her outside of that, but it’s because of her and those circumstances that I’m now trapped in the family business.
A victim of the very same shit I always said I’d never succumb to.
For one fleeting moment, I consider leaving her at the mansion to take care of herself while I take care of my business. Or I could ship her off somewhere so that I don't have to look at her face anymore. As soon as the thoughts pop in my head, I dismiss them.
Both are very appealing ideas, but I could never go through with either. As much as I despise what she represents, I need to make sure she doesn’t spill my secrets to the world, and I can’t keep her in line if she’s on another continent. Combine that with my desire to own her, and well, it’s not looking good.
Her body goes completely slack beneath my grasp, her eyes fluttering closed. I exhale and slowly lift myself off her, removing my hands from her soft skin. If I don’t stop touching her, I might do something I’ll regret.
Still, even as I tell myself to walk away, my feet refuse to move. I remain there, planted like a fucking creep, hovering over her and watching her breasts swell with every slight rise and fall of her chest. Fuck, the things I could do to her right now. And the knowledge that there isn’t a damn thing she could do to stop me—it’s intoxicating.
I lift my thumb, wiping at the moisture forming at the corner of my mouth. I could fuck her, take her however I want, and she would never even fucking know. It wouldn’t matter, even if she did know. She's mine to do with as I please.
The temptation is so fierce, I reach for her without further thought, my fingers flicking at the top buttons on her shirt to reveal a small peek at what’s beneath.
Smooth, porcelain skin reflects back at me in the lamplight, and I stroke a single finger down the center line of her chest, starting at the pulse that beats frantically in the hollow of her throat, ending at the last button, just beneath her breasts. Her skin is silky smooth, against the rough pad of my finger.
I want to trace it with my tongue. Discover its flavor.
For some reason I hesitate. All I would have to do to see more is twitch my finger a bit to the right or the left, pulling back the fabric, and all of one little tit would be revealed. I bet I could swallow it whole. Shit. My throbbing cock presses against the zipper of my pants, reminding me that even if she pisses me the fuck off she still has the power to awaken me with need.