Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Suddenly, there is a knock on the door, and I hold my breath.
The door opens. First, a foot is visible. Then the black suit. Another foot. The man with the square jaw steps inside my room again, his thin lips tugging at the corner into a rugged, crooked smile.
I freeze in place as he closes the door behind him. The click of the lock falling into place makes my heart jump. Every step he takes is another one that forces me to stay put, as though his very presence is enough to make my body falter. My muscles fail to listen to me when I tell them to move. When I want to raise a fist and punch him for daring to get close.
Instead, I just stand there, gazing at both of us in the mirror, wondering why he did all of this to me … and what he’s planning to do.
As he walks closer, I hold my breath until I can practically feel his body against mine. He looks at me through the mirror, his tongue darting out briefly like a wolf would when it’s about to eat.
“You look … beautiful,” he says, his voice luscious, almost sexy. “Peculiar choice of dress, but I can appreciate that,” he muses, and he places a hand on my shoulder. Goose bumps scatter on my skin. “Look at yourself … So pretty yet so violent, those thoughts swirling inside your head.”
I spin on my heels, forcing his hand to drop from my shoulder. Even though my heart is racing, I come face-to-face with the man who trapped me.
“Who are you?”
That same dark, almost hungry smile appears. “Call me Eli.”
Eli … such an innocent name for such a devilish man.
“What do you want from me?” I ask.
“What do I want?” He snorts, almost as if to laugh at me. “No, Amelia. This is what you wanted.”
My eyes widen as fire rages through my chest. “What I wanted? I never asked to be locked up like some pet.”
Suddenly, his hand is on my neck, fingers twisted around my flesh, causing me to gasp. “You asked …” His grip loosens, and his thumb caresses me so softly it confuses the hell out of me. “And I am here to make your wish come true.”
Tears well up in my eyes from my predicament. “What do you plan on doing to me?”
He cocks his head and bites his bottom lip, his eyes glazing over my body as though he’s taking in all that he owns. “Whatever I choose … Because that’s what you asked for: To be punished.”
“I take it back,” I say as a tear rolls down my cheek.
His hand slides up my neck, gently caressing my face until he reaches my cheek, where he picks up the lonely tear with his index finger and studies it for a moment. “Too late.”
He grabs my hand, lifting it. My eyes close, expecting pain.
But I’m surprised by a gentle kiss on the top of my hand. His rugged lips feel hot on my skin, and turmoil breaks my heart in two. This handsome stranger has taken me into what I assume is his home, but it’s cost me my freedom. All because of that one question he asked me.
His lips part again. “I will see you tonight.”
Then he turns around and marches off, leaving me with nothing except more insufferable questions that I don’t know the answers to.
Chapter 7
Eli
When the door closes behind me, my fists finally relax. I was so close, so damn close to just taking her right then. She looked ripe, ready for the taking. So picture perfect in front of that mirror that I wanted nothing more than to caress her. Even with that modest dress she chose, an obvious statement that didn’t elude me, I still wanted to claim her. Grab her. Take her. Fuck her into oblivion.
But I know I have to wait. These things must happen the way they’re supposed to. The way my father taught me.
Punishments are to be carried out in an effective manner while following the rules. It is the only way this arrangement will work. The sinner is punished while the punisher sins.
And judging by my own tented pants, I’m certain I’ve already started. I gaze down at my pants, willing my cock to go down. Soon.
Just a few more hours … and then she’ll be mine.
Fifteen years ago
Sandwiches, snacks, and cups of coffee and juice fill the table in front of me, but my stomach turns at the thought of eating or drinking any of it.
My hands are sweaty as they briefly touch the table to find something to hold on to.
I feel uneasy, weak to the bone.
I’ve never felt like this before.
Not even after all the many trips my father took to foreign lands, only to return with strangers I’d never met before and would never see again.