Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 124446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 498(@250wpm)___ 415(@300wpm)
When the first slap falls on the underside of her ass, she starts to struggle. I press a hand on her nape, feeling the small lump where the tracker is buried under her skin, knowing it will never be enough. Nothing can ever be enough.
Smack!
She cries out.
I can’t lose her again. I fucking hate the feeling.
Smack!
Her back hollows.
Smack!
Another smothered cry.
I don’t hit her hard enough to bruise, only to leave a red imprint of my hand. I cover every inch of that snow-white skin until her ass is as pink as a rose. She’s not crying, not that I expected her to. She’s a killer. A soldier. She’s gone through much worse. But I know it hurts. The heat seeps from her red skin into my palm as I rub her globes slowly. She squirms. The caress is painful on her smarting ass. Still, it’s not enough to settle the hell she put me through.
Flipping her around, I stand with her in my arms. I’m not gentle when I dump her on the bed. I don’t look at her face as I yank her sweater and T-shirt over her head, and rip off her bra. I don’t look into her eyes because I don’t want to do it. Not like this. But she left me no choice.
I finish undressing her. My command is curt, humiliating, something aimed at a pet, not an equal. “Stay.”
She flinches.
Going through the room, I find nothing that can serve as restraints. The threadbare towels will have to do. I twist the biggest one like a rope, lift her arms above her head, and bind her wrists to the headboard. She watches me as I work. She’s quiet, but her eyes glint with her own anger.
I test the knot, then spread her legs. “Don’t move.”
She continues to watch me silently as I undress and climb between her legs.
“This is how you want it?” I position my cock at her entrance. “Like it was in Colombia?”
Her reply is soft. “No.”
“If you run, you tell me otherwise.”
I don’t get her ready. That’s not what this is about. I press the head of my cock at the pink flesh between her legs and part those delicate petals. I’m too thick for her, too angry. Yet her pulse quickens, her breasts heaving with her fast little breaths.
“You want this?” As angry as I am, I’ll stop if she tells me to. Forcing is a line I won’t cross.
Her nod is cryptic.
I grip her hair. “Say it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?” I need to know. I don’t know what I expect her to say, only that I burn to know why she wants this.
“Does it matter?”
It fucking does. Maybe not to her. To me, nothing has mattered more. “Tell me why.”
Her gaze takes on the steel-blue hue of a winter sky. “Just do it.”
So be it. I do it. I sink into her greedily, selfishly. Violently. Like she asked. As if she’s proving there’s nothing loving about this. It’s savage. It’s unquestionable. It’s a truth, the rawest truth I’ve known. She’s too tight, her flesh unrelenting as I draw back and slam home again, going as deep as I can.
Tears fill her eyes, drowning the gray, softening the steel. I grip the towel around her wrists. I don’t dare sink my fingers into her hips. I’m not leaving marks on her again. Then I move. Savagely. With truth. I take her over and over, thrusting into her body like I’m chasing unobtainable dreams.
Our hips slam together in a rough, punishing rhythm. I don’t take care of her pleasure; I come. Harshly, brutally. I empty myself in her body, filling her up. I leave my mark inside her, and when I’m done, I kiss her. I kiss her hard, smearing the red lipstick over her face. I bite her lip and stroke my tongue over the teeth marks. Then I pull out and let go.
My cum leaks out, staining the ugly orange bedspread. When I get up, she closes her legs. Her cheeks are red, and she can’t look at me. She turns her face away.
I wet the remaining towel and clean her up before settling down next to her and pulling the sheet over us without untying her.
Draping an arm over her stomach, I press my lips on the shell of her ear. “You could’ve had it like in Prague. Just remember, this is how you chose it.”
She doesn’t speak. She accepts the verdict, and I fall into an unfulfilled, haunted sleep.
I wake up early. The sun isn’t up yet, but Mina’s eyes are already open. Maybe she never slept. My anger has burned out, and regret tastes like cold, stale ashes. It could’ve been different. I want it to be different.
“Uncomfortable?” I ask.
She nods.
I kick away the sheet and slide down the mattress. She doesn’t ask what I’m doing when I bury my head in the soft flesh between her thighs. I lick her pussy, taste her on my tongue. What wouldn’t I give her, if only she asked.