Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
He pulls out almost all the way and slams into me. This time, there’s no stopping, no slowing down, no checking in. He’s sure of me. He damn well should be. I’m on my toes, trying to angle my hips to take him deeper, trying to move with his thrusts, trying to do anything but simply take it.
Impossible. I’m immobile and held steady by his big hands on my hips, by his ropes binding my upper body. The thickness of them rubs against my skin with every rough stroke, a slick slide that has me moaning almost as much as the feeling of his cock stretching me.
“Jameson.”
“That’s right, beautiful girl. See me.” There are layers to his words, depths I’m afraid to sink into for fear of drowning. This should just be fucking, but it doesn’t feel like only fucking. It feels like he’s reached into the very core of me and now he’s pulling out bits and pieces with every thrust, exposing the weak and terrified part I keep hidden.
My throat burns, and my eyes go hot. What the hell is happening to me? “I don’t … I can’t …”
“Let it go.” His soft command lashes me with more finesse than any flogger.
I come with a sob. I fight the orgasm the same way I fight the bindings, but the struggle only seems to make the pleasure go higher. The last shudder works through my body as Hook carefully turns me over and sits me up. He studies me, his dark eyes seeing too much. They always see too much.
I think I’m crying. I can’t be certain. I can’t be certain of anything anymore. My gaze drops to his still-hard cock, and for some reason that makes the horrible heat clogging my throat so much worse. “You didn’t come.”
“Not yet.” He frames my face with his big hands and strokes away my tears with his thumbs. I try to pull away, but he holds me immobile. “Tears don’t mean weakness, Tink. Even if they did, there’s no shame in weakness with those you trust.”
“You’re assuming a lot,” I whisper.
“No, I’m not.” He moves onto the bed and pulls me onto his lap. I hate that I feel self-conscious on top of everything else, which only makes my emotional response that much stronger. I can’t stop the tears. I can’t even use my own hands to wipe them away.
I can’t do this.
Why did I think I could do this, that anything would be simple with Hook? He’s always asked too much, demanded I act against my instincts. Defend. Run. Hide. He won’t let me do any of it. If I wasn’t a goddamn coward, I’d let him as close as he seems to want to be. I would see this sham of a marriage as a chance to maybe have something I’ve wanted since I was a kid, a burning desire that has been used against me time and time again. I might even love this man with his wicked charm and wounds that are far too similar to mine.
But I am a coward.
“Pirate,” I gasp.
He’s moving before the word is completely out of my mouth. I can’t see what he’s doing but then the bindings are gone, and I suck in a breath as if I’m drowning. Hook yanks the ropes away from my skin, and I can barely process that he cut them before he’s wrapping his arms around me and holding me close.
“Take a slow breath, Tink. Deep inhale, deep exhale.” Hook wraps me in his arms, and even though every part of me wants to run, to put as much distance as possible between us, I can’t do anything but sit there and shake. And cry, goddamn it, because I never stopped once the first tear fell.
“You’re safe.” He somehow gets the comforter up around us, creating a cocoon of warmth.
“Not that. Never that.”
His grip tightens on me before he seems to make himself relax. “Yes, safe. Right here, right now, you are fucking safe.”
Even as my mind spins in increasingly frantic circles, my body melts into him. I cannot reconcile the two, cannot understand how I can be so afraid and so comforted at the same time by the same man, so I close my eyes and rest my forehead against his shoulder. My body continues its efforts to shake itself to pieces. Even knowing it’s a result of the adrenaline crash, I resent the weakness.
Or maybe I resent the truth I can’t escape. My weakness goes soul deep. No matter how strong, how fierce, how mean I am, at my center, I’m still the scared teenager who fell for a monster’s false kindness. I’m so, so afraid to repeat that same mistake with this man. My instincts tell me he’s nothing like Peter. But then, history proves that my instincts aren’t to be trusted.