Total pages in book: 214
Estimated words: 199879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 999(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 666(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 999(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 666(@300wpm)
“Men take advantage of girls in situations like that. Maybe we should call the doctor. Have him check you,” my mom offers.
You can’t check for virginity. I’ve googled that before to see. And there’s no way you can tell. “Did both of you bleed your first time?” I ask.
“Of course.” My mother huffs. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be my mother. My father would have given her away, and her family would’ve shunned her. Then he would have gone on to marry another woman, and I would not exist. A Spade brother doesn’t have to marry his chosen, but my father did end up marrying my mother.
The therapist, however, I don’t know her past or her personal life. I understand it’s none of my business, but if she wants to get personal, then let’s get personal. “This conversation isn’t about us.” She refuses to answer my question.
I stand, and my mother does as well. “Ash—”
“I’m leaving, Mom. I’m going home. I’m tired, and you guys can’t tell me anything that I don’t already know.” With that, I walk out of her office and get in the elevator. I make my way down to the first floor and out to my car.
When I woke this morning, my mother texted me yesterday that she would pick me up. I told her I’d meet her here because I was staying late at Barrington to do some research and didn’t have time to go to my place. It was a lie. I wasn’t about to be stuck in the car with her again after another session.
I drive to my place in silence, and it doesn’t help me any. If anything, it makes me even more on edge. They’re making me doubt my body and myself.
Pulling up to my house, I get out and walk in through the front door. I drop my purse, keys, and phone on the floor, not caring about any of them. I make my way to my bedroom and push the door open. I come to a stop when I see Saint sitting on the edge of my bed.
My eyes scan the piece of rope laid out. Day two of my training, and honestly, it’s exactly what I need. Force me to come over and over until I can’t speak clearly and just pass the fuck out.
When my eyes meet his, the smile drops off his face. “Ashtyn.” He jumps to his feet and rushes over to me. “Hey.” His voice softens. “What’s wrong?” His bright-green eyes search mine, and I don’t realize I’m crying until he wipes the tears from my face.
I shake my head, the knot in my throat keeping me from forming a word. He wraps his arms around me, and I cling to him as he holds me.
“I’m going to take care of it,” he says as if he knows why I’m upset.
I’m not even sure why I’m crying. The rules, the society, the pressure. Hell, it could be my damn period for all I know. Maybe I just need a nap or a stiff drink. I feel like I’m yelling in a room full of people, and no one is listening to what I have to say. Seriously? How many times do I need to have the same conversation with my mother and her therapist? I guess the answer to that is until Saint fucks me in front of the Lords. That day will change everything. My future, my chance at being with him. I have a fifty-fifty shot of spending the next year with him or being sent away for the rest of my life.
“I’m going to take care of it,” he repeats, but I feel like he’s trying to convince himself more than me.
I manage a nod, but I don’t believe him.
ELEVEN
SAINT
I stand next to her bed while she lies tied to it. She’s naked, and her body shakes from spending another night coming for me on her vibrator.
She needed out of her own head. Her mother and her therapist have spent years brainwashing my sweetheart. I’ve only been doing it for a couple of days, but I’m going to win. I’ll make sure of it.
Putting the vibrator back in her nightstand, I then begin to untie her. Once her legs and arms are free, I crawl onto her bed, and she rolls into me, burying her face into my chest. She sobs, and I wrap my arms around her. I’m not sure if it’s from overstimulation or her session with her mother’s therapist. It could be a combination of both, really.
I lie on my side, fully dressed while she clings to me naked until her sobs subside and her body softens.
I gently roll her onto her back and run my knuckles down her soft cheeks. They’re still wet from her tears that she cried while she begged me to stop. I didn’t. It’s for the best. I want her to know it’s okay to want something that others see as inappropriate.