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)
Her courage knew no bounds. Maybe it was God working through her, but she radiated an inner strength he was certain she’d never acknowledged. “You’ve done a hellacious job surviving. You don’t have it in you to give up.”
“I would have.” She glanced up, eyes hard, and returned to her rope work. “But this living arrangement, this room, has kept those thoughts at bay.”
For how long? Mr. E could take it away any moment. “Van’s okay with it? How long before he swings a chainsaw at that door?”
“He’s accepted that this is the only way I’ll be a part of his life.” She yanked on a knot with more strength than was needed. “As long as I’m around, Van has an outlet for his desires. The virgin slaves remain virgin. Mr. E knows this and lets me keep the code.”
His heart ached for her. She deserved a life beyond masks and locked doors and black eyes. Something about her, captor or not, brought out a fierce drive in him to take care of her, to serve her. Not that he could do anything with his hands tied, but she’d asked his permission before restraining him with rope. It was the asking that compelled his cooperation.
She wound the ends around his upper thighs, tightened the final knot, and sat back on her heels. Rather than studying her intricate work, she peered into his eyes, her posture motionless and her face framed by ribbons of metallic copper in her chestnut hair.
When her silence stretched, he tilted his head. “What is it?”
A deep groove appeared between her eyes. “You’re not broken or defeated.” The side of her mouth tipped up into a trembling curve, making his chest swell against the restraints. “But you let me do this.” A whisper.
When her eyes lowered, he bent his head to remain in her line of sight. “I have faith in you, Liv. You know how to handle Van. What’s wrong?”
The furrow in her brow deepened. “This kind of bondage is about trust, not control.” She traced a finger over the rope harness and adjusted a knot to line up with the others. “I would’ve never attempted it on one of the captives.” She glanced at him through her dark lashes. “I practiced a lot on a borrowed mannequin.”
Given the labyrinth of knots, it was a binding that couldn’t be easily forced, a position he certainly wouldn’t have volunteered before Mr. E’s visit. He pressed his lips to her forehead. Maybe his trust was too soon, but somehow it had braided a bridge between them that was as complex and sturdy as the rope that bound him.
“You trust me.” She wasn’t asking, but disbelief creased her face.
He captured her parted lips, stroked his tongue over hers, tasting her sincerity, and straightened to behold her. “I trust your intentions.”
Soft brown eyes stared back, her hand settling on his inner thigh. He felt that single point of contact through his whole body, warming and stirring. She stretched a finger and stroked down his semi-erect shaft. “You shouldn’t.”
His breath strangled. “Liv.” He groaned, his penis jerking against her touch. “What are you doing?”
“Before I text Van, you need to memorize the requirements. A perfect little slave could recite them verbatim.” She curled her fingers around the pulse between his legs, massaging him to hardness. “And you need to do it while I distract you.”
She grabbed his nipple and twisted it to unholy hell, sparking pain through his chest. The rope between his arms and thighs halted the bow of his back.
“Arruugh!” He moaned for long seconds after she released him.
“What is requirement number one?”
He ground his teeth, reeling from the lingering bite of her fingers. “Slave can only have sex with felonious men—”
She yanked on his other nipple with a brutal pinch, and let go. The sting thrummed through his body, and his groin heated, stiffening to the point of pain.
Her hand clenched around his erection. “Slave has never experienced sexual intimacy with a woman. Slave is heterosexual but hates women. He desires only his Master.” She arched a slim eyebrow.
He repeated the requirement. “How would anyone know if I’ve slept with a woman?”
Those gorgeous eyes roamed his face. She trailed her other hand along his hairline, around his ear, and down his neck, watching the path of her caress. “Experience. Skill. Confidence. These things surface in a man’s eyes when he regards a woman.” Her gaze flicked to his, the hand on his penis sliding up and down. “Don’t gape at me like that.”
“Seriously?” He released a ragged breath. “You’re stroking me.”
“When we’re in the presence of others, don’t look at me at all. You need to practice that now.”
If he was going to be tied up or naked around Van or the buyer, he wouldn’t be looking at her with anything but panic.