Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 108616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
“Wow. That’s a pretty vulgar word for you, Jesus boy. First time trying it out?”
The cheese stuck in his throat. The muffling of her voice through the mask only made her words more aggravating. She might have known some things about him, but she didn’t know enough to judge him. And calling him a Jesus boy wasn’t an effective way to get under his skin. “I couldn’t habituate myself to using bad language. Imagine if it slipped out in the company of a parishioner.”
“The horror.” Her tone was deadpanned, bored.
His shoulders stiffened. His social circles were comprised of people like his folks, who so willingly devoted their lives to holiness, they took their rules to another level. Study the bible daily, never miss worship, and live in perpetual fear of everything: other religions, gays, cursing, bikinis, pop music, alcohol, smoking, premarital sex, and hell. It was as if they believed humans were demons in the flesh.
The laid-back Christians on the opposite end of the spectrum were content to simply have a relationship with God. Without the obsessive focus on rules, they seemed to better appreciate all the good in the world. It would crush his parents if they knew this was the sort of Christian he wanted to be.
He also wanted a career in football, but his decisions had never been up to him. Especially not now, and given Liv’s job, he knew discussing his future in ministry would not help her relate to him. “You didn’t answer the question, Mistress.”
A motionless tension fell over her. She shot to her feet and kicked the box of food across the room. “I do not answer questions.” Her boot swung again, aimed at his head. He caught it, tucked it to his chest, twisting her leg and rolling her. Using her loss of balance and the taut rope of chain to trip her other foot, he dumped her face-down on the floor and threw his weight over her. Strangely, she lay like the dead, arms trapped beneath her body.
Without thought, his hands went to the mask, released the buckles on the back, and chucked it to the side. He’d already seen her face, so the disguise must’ve been meant to conceal her expressions. Well, screw that. He wanted to force her responses to the surface and bare every twitch and twist of her features.
She didn’t try to free her arms or raise her face from the rug. Her breath whispered evenly through the mane of brown silk tousled around her head. He lifted his chest, pinning her legs with his, and flipped her over. “Do you and Van anally rape your prisoners?”
Arms limp at her sides, her expression was a blank canvas. But her detachment seemed to make her eyes look even more dangerous as they drew into slits and locked on his.
The length of chain gave him enough range of motion to strangle her with his hands, but then what? He didn’t have the code to the door, and she didn’t seem concerned about her safety, which meant she was prepared. Did she have a weapon hidden in her bodice? “You’re a pimp and a rapist. How many slaves, Liv?”
“It’s Mistress.” She slammed her brow into the bridge of his nose.
A blaze of fire burned through his nostrils. He wrinkled his nose, fighting the hurt from her hard head, worrying about the costs his parents would pay for his temerity. He needed to make certain the risks he took didn’t touch them.
She slid a palm up the back of his thigh and parted his cheeks. No amount of clenching dissuaded her from touching that forbidden place between. If he swatted at her, he wouldn’t be able to hold down her shoulders. He could roll off her and lose the upper hand or he could endure her probing finger.
He did his best to control his breathing, and failed. “What would you call this?” he panted. “Seduction or rape?”
Holding his eyes, she tried to pull her knees to the outside of his legs, but his weight held them in place. So she used the only freedom she had and pressed a stiff finger against his rectum, her eyes hard and fixed on his. She prodded deeper, a dry invasion that crushed his molars together. “Try again. With. The. Title.”
His blood boiled, and his mouth dried. “Are you going to rape me, Mistress?”
“You are restraining me.”
Her finger, toying shallowly where no finger should go, garbled his brain. He wouldn’t give up his position, and as much as the violation made him squirm, it wasn’t dampening the heat stirring in his groin where it rubbed against the apex of her open thighs.
“You like this.” Her lips curled up, perversely smug. “They all do. By the end of the first day, all of my boys beg me to fuck them.” Finger in his backside, she ground herself against his traitorous hard-on. “You’ll beg, too.”