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)
She brushed a thumb over the corner of Josh’s mouth. “You may speak. Tell him how I did it.”
They had discussed how the questioning might go. Since their plan didn’t extend beyond surviving the buyer’s meeting, they’d agreed honesty was the best approach.
He swallowed the fry she’d placed in his mouth, savoring the fried, salty taste. “I trust her.” Oh, how he wanted to meet Van’s eyes when he said that.
“Really?” Van’s voice punched in disbelief.
“And I don’t want to see her harmed again.” His words, though rehearsed, came from an empowered place inside him. She’d already been hurt so much, but she was not beyond saving.
“You and me both, buddy.”
His veins heated with rage. Did the hypocrisy burn Van’s mouth as it huffed out?
The conversation fell quiet as she kept the food coming, brushing his lips under the guise of catching crumbs. With the hard floor grinding into his knees, he wanted to remove the distance between them, wanted to strip the kerchief that covered her nose and mouth, and plunge into her eyes. He wanted to be alone with her. Hell, he yearned to speed forward into the future. A future free of shackles. A future with her in it. He dared God to challenge his desires.
Two burgers, a cola, and a bag of fries later, his stomach settled.
Van lifted a foot and nudged her back. “Let’s see what he’s learned, Liv.”
She stuffed the trash into the bag and set it aside. “Say the requirements in order with an eagerness and accuracy that will please your Mistress.”
While Van made a decidedly sucky buddy in this ridiculous game, he seemed to have his temper under wraps. In fact, he was shockingly passive. Why?
Josh’s shoulders stiffened with realization. If he messed up the buyer’s meeting, if Liv was killed, Van would suffer the loss. The volatile bastard had just as much at stake.
He exhaled, “Yes, Mistress,” and recited rules one through ten slowly and carefully, imagining himself performing each one for her, trusting her not to use his obedience against him.
Her finger caressed a warm path over his knee, her body blocking her affection from Van’s predatory eyes. She removed her hand.
“Impressive.” Van rose. “Show me how he will service his Master.”
A flinch jerked Josh’s insides, but he remained outwardly still on his knees. He knew this moment would come and told himself if she could endure Van’s touch, he could, too. He waited for her command.
She reached back toward the mattress, but he couldn’t see what she grabbed. She touched his jaw. “Look at me.”
With pleasure. Connecting with her, by any means possible, would make this more bearable. As he raised his head, he leaned forward, subtly, into her personal space, inhaling the peppermint and lavender scent of her shampoo. Peering over the black kerchief, her magnetic eyes pulled him in further. Her pupils widened with an indiscernible emotion.
She held up the butt plug. “Requirement number eleven. Slave will wear and accept toys Master chooses to adorn him with.” She paused, seemed to wrestle with her words. “You can open your mouth to Van’s kiss or spread your ass for the plug. Both prepare you for your Master tomorrow, but which would please your Mistress now?” The movement of her mouth paused beneath the cloth as if she were considering the answer, but he suspected her diabolical mind had already choreographed the proceedings from beginning to end.
Van crouched behind her, his eyes alight with interest, his toothpick seemingly forgotten as it lolled in the crook of his lips.
Josh’s breaths quickened, his eyes searching hers. One flawless eye, one bruised, the surrounding skin furrowing as her eyebrows drew together. In the complexity of her gaze, he saw concern, a sense of responsibility, and maybe even possessiveness. If he read her correctly, she didn’t want Van near him. Or maybe he was just projecting his own desire.
The kiss would be the least intrusive, and if it were with any other man, it might’ve been his preference. She’d warned him the plug would be used eventually, and he’d resolved to accept it eventually.
“The plug for now.” Her tone was bored, bordering cruel, but the gentle look she shared with him helped smooth the tumble in his gut. Meanwhile, his nerves were shrieking in horror.
With a strong voice and an open expression, he embodied his consent. “Yes, Mistress.”
She and Van rose, and she angled her mouth toward Van’s ear. Whatever she whispered sent him bolting to her cabinet of tools.
Minutes later, Josh lay face down on the mattress, knees on the subfloor, arms roped around his torso, backside in the air. Shifting into his line of sight, she squirted gel from a tube over her fingers, making sure he saw her apply it to the plug.
He wished he had the tennis ball to slam against the wall and distract his impulse to scream and fight. Instead, he focused on something more soothing. Like the tender touch of her hand as it eased between his crack. The measured caress around the entrance she’d only ventured in the one time. And the fact that it was her pressing against the barrier and not the man climbing onto the mattress and reclining beside him.