Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
There’s only one person I want her to crawl to.
That person isn’t me.
It is the beautifully stubborn woman reflected at her, the girl who’d go to the end of the world for anyone but herself.
“Slowly,” I mutter, my breathing shallow when I realize how much of a struggle it is for her to see herself in the same light as those around her. “And when has eye contact not been your strong point? Look at her. Take in her beauty while wordlessly promising to answer her every whim.”
Polina drifts her eyes from mine in the mirror to herself before she slowly makes her way across the room, her creep timid yet seductive.
“Good girl,” I praise when she makes it halfway to the mirror without her eyes ever leaving herself. I can see the struggle on her face, smell it leaking out of her, but she follows my command to the T. “Look at how fucking beautiful you are. Lean, strong, and unintimidated.” Once she reaches the mirror, I say, “Now up on your knees and spread them wide. See how wet your perfection has made you.”
Tears gloss her eyes as she mumbles, “I-I—”
“Now, Polly.”
As her chest heaves up and down, thrusting the generous curves of her tits, she balances her backside on the balls of her feet before she spreads her knees wide, exposing her wet pussy to both our ravenous eyes.
As she drinks in the splendor that will keep me entranced for decades on end, she appears confident and strong, but her eyes missile to mine like a bullet being fired from a gun when I say, “Now touch yourself.”
18
POLINA
My headshake is firm enough to swish the drenched locks hanging halfway down my back, but Yev acts ignorant. He drags over the chair he was seated on when he consumed my pussy with a heap of tongue lashes, groans, and grazes of his teeth, slots it directly behind me, then encourages me to lean back until my back braces on the seat and my hair splays across his bare and chunky thighs.
“I’ll never force you to do anything you don’t want to do, Polly. But I think this will be good for you.”
I have no clue why. Touching myself is another hard limit. It slots right in between the darkness and forcefully moving me. I’m just lost as to why it scares the shit out of me so much.
It’s a hidden memory, but if I buried it, it was for a good reason.
Resurfacing it won’t do anyone any justice.
“I-I can’t.”
“Yeah, you can.” Yev’s voice is smooth and cultured since it isn’t hindered by the shakes that kept us locked away in his apartment the past three days. “I have faith in you.” Just like two nights ago, his trust does wonders for my battered ego. So much so, I contemplate his offer instead of straight up denying it when he asks, “Do you want me to guide you?”
My head is screaming no, but my body’s response is the opposite.
My chin scarcely dips when Yev plucks me off the floor like he did in the shower earlier, plants me on his lap, then curls his hands over mine.
“Where do you want to touch first?”
I shift my eyes from his lusty ones staring at me in the mirror to my body. I’ve never looked at myself like this before. It is both raw and emotional. I’ve been scared of my body for so long. Not because it is hideous but because the shame of sexual abuse isn’t always shunted onto the perpetrators.
The victims wear the shame of their assaults more than anyone.
“My-my breasts,” I eventually murmur, my voice barely a whisper.
“Good choice,” Yev replies before he glides my hands that feel like lead up the planes of my stomach before cupping my breasts.
I was so scared my abusers’ touches could be seen, I didn’t lose my virginity until late in life. I thought their abuse was trademarked on my skin and that it would attract me to men just like them.
Only now do I realize nothing I did caused their unwanted attention.
It was all on them… wasn’t it?
I’m drawn from a memory fighting to resurface when Yev says, “Fuck, Polly. Your body is so responsive.” When I lock eyes with his hooded gaze in the mirror, he smiles. “Why are you looking at me? I’m not the one stiffening your nipples to rigid peaks. That’s all you, baby girl.”
I hate his nickname, but that isn’t the only reason unease floods my veins. It is drinking in the perkiness of my nipple when I roll it between my thumb and forefinger.
Yev is no longer guiding my movements. I’m fondling myself, and it is oddly arousing but concerning at the same time.
“You should slide one hand down to your clit. Give it the same attention you’re giving your nipples,” Yev suggests, his voice husky with lust.