Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 66565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
“Surrender,” he murmurs, his cock gliding along my fingers and then settling in the cleft between my legs. He is a wall of heat behind me as his body weight settles into the mattress. His cock a hard, unyielding promise. My hands fist but my bottom rises to meet his thrusts. “Let go. Let yourself be mine. Every part of you. Don’t hold a single part back.”
“Logan,” I whisper. I flex my fingers and he releases my wrists, but only so he can guide them over my head where he takes hold of them again.
But not before a dark glint catches my eye. The ring is a weight heavy on my finger. Not a diamond, though. A signet ring crowned with a gold beast’s head. The mark of his claim. My heart soars at the sight.
Logan threads his thick fingers with my small ones, covering my hand with his. In the dark, my lips curve.
“I was always yours.”
My eyes snap open and the sun hits me in the face. My pussy’s tight and aching, my hips rocking towards the ceiling. I breathe out in frustration, so turned on from my dream it must have freaking woke me up.
And no wonder. I look down at myself and my breath hitches again. I’m still covered in Logan’s cum. Was it only last night? He barged in here, made me beg and then…
I turn and bury my face in the pillow, wishing I could have stayed in the dream a little longer. Maybe in that dream world he would have eventually let me touch him. Maybe even wrapped his arms around me like he did that one night…after the funeral, when I felt more alone than I ever had before in my life.
But then Logan came.
I blink and lay on my side, staring at the sun pouring in the eastern window. For once in my life, there’s no rush to be anywhere. No lab tests, no meetings, no board breathing down my neck.
No inconvenient fiancés.
Still not getting out of bed, I reach over and pull out the bedside table drawer. The diamond flashes at me from the engagement ring. I pulled it off and tossed it in there as soon as I could, along with my phone.
Tethers to my old life, which feels increasingly far away. If only I could walk away forever, wave a wand and have all my responsibilities disappear.
The old Daphne would never feel this way. But…is that necessarily a bad thing?
I shove the drawer shut. I was going to call my dad, check in, but I’m not in the mood. The last few times I’ve called, he’s been asleep or busy with PT anyway. I can call him later and it’ll be fine. And I can pretend this is my life—a simple existence as Logan’s plaything—a little longer.
If I stop and think too hard, I know nothing about this is simple. And yet it is at the same time.
I close my eyes and will the dream to continue.
His arms around me.
But it’s not a dream that plays behind my eyelids. It’s the memories again. Memories I can’t escape, that somehow feel so fresh it’s as if it all happened last night.
His arms around me that terrible night, comforting me as I wept for my mother. How safe and cherished he made me feel. I think… I think that was the last time I ever felt that until… until now. Until he came back into my life.
First with my mom’s death and then his disappearance out of nowhere. Everything just sort of…stopped.
I just…stopped.
Emotionally and as a person, all the gears inside me slowed down and came to a grinding halt.
I was hurting so bad and there was no one there to help me understand or figure out how to get through it. Certainly not my father.
I frown and finally roll out of bed, heading for the shower.
The shower spray is cleansing hot. I wash, rinse, and rewash my hair several times, and survey the marks on my body. Mostly faded. Will Logan give me more today? Please, Master, will you whip me again? My laugh echoes around the luxuriously tiled room.
Dear gods, what is my life?
Because the thing is, while I might have been frozen in amber at 19, now at 27, I am waking the fuck back up. In a completely full-grown woman’s body.
I get out and blow-dry my hair, taking the time to style it. The woman in the mirror is a sloe-eyed seductress. I pucker my lips and she blows me a kiss.
Have I ever done this? Enjoyed a lazy morning, primping in the bathroom? Surely there was a moment in my teens when I posed for the mirror, figuring out how to get my hair to fall in sultry waves just so.
I wrack my brain but there’s no memory of happy time to myself. My teen years were dedicated to school, research, taking care of my mom. No fun with girlfriends. Not even a sleepover.