Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
“I’ve already told you.” He shackled her wrists with his hands and pinned her arms against the grass above her head. “Stop focusing on what you think you know and look at me, at us. What are you really after? What do you need?”
“The prize.” Her eyes flashed. “You without slavery.”
“Slave has more than one meaning. Open your mind.”
“You’re talking about what Nico said to me?” She yanked her arms against the grip of his hands. “My supposed search to be owned and dominated?” At his nod, her gaze widened. “Are those women…? Holy shit, are they here willingly?”
“No.” His heart pounded with frustration. “They definitely don’t want to be here.”
Flickering shadows spread over her face. “I don’t understand.”
“Try.”
She regarded him for a long moment then blinked. “You want me to trust you.”
“It’s a very good place to start.”
She breathed in, out, and again. Then muscle by muscle, she slackened beneath him. Her arms went limp in the grip of his hands. Her legs widened, knees falling open to accommodate his hips.
His nerve endings stirred everywhere their bodies touched—hands, chests, thighs, and…fuck, her cunt burned hot against his cock. Excitement surged through him, coiling like a fist around his shaft. He couldn’t stop himself from grinding, his breaths shortening and control unraveling.
Eyes damp and overly bright, she started to tremble, her voice reedy. “One hard, violent fuck away from surrender?”
The words he’d given Nico sounded so fucking erotic whispered from her quivering lips. Surrender didn’t come without fear, and she was there—the perspiration on her brow, the ashen coloring in her cheeks, the irregular pace of her breaths. He was going to fuck her and make it hurt, make her scream. But he knew that somewhere deep inside her, she was going to enjoy it, and that probably scared her the most.
“Remove your clothes.” He shifted to his knees and tackled his belt.
She hesitated, her gaze locked on the strap of leather he folded in his fist.
“Camila.”
She looked up at his cutting tone, and he gave the command again, not with his voice, but with the full force of his eyes.
Her inhale fluttered, fingers curling in the grass. Then, with a nod, she obeyed.
MATIAS TIGHTENED HIS HAND around the leather belt, unable to stifle the shaking in his fingers as Camila stood and reached for the hem of her shirt. He could no longer hear the drone of bees, feel the sunlight, or smell the citrus in the air, yet the atmosphere had never been more alive than it was now.
Balancing her weight on the heels and balls of her bare feet, she pulled the shirt over her head. Her slave training was evident in the way she held herself—legs straight, knees unlocked, gaze trained on him. But despite the darkness of her past seeping in, her brown eyes shone through it.
Fuck him, but he loved her inner strength, loved how her chest lifted and arched, her shoulders squared, and how her attention homed in on him as if the movement of her hands was merely reflex. He felt her submission at a molecular level, every cell in his body gravitating toward her, his muscles hungrily aware and throbbing to take what was his. But he remained where he was, three feet away, and devoured her every move.
Keeping her face and chest angled toward him with her chin drawn in, she slowly and gracefully removed her bra, jeans, and panties. Then she straightened, the alignment of her head and neck vertical, arms hanging at her sides without stiffness, and let him stare.
He stood frozen in the wake of her beauty, absorbing her nudity, her willingness, in the place he’d meticulously rebuilt, amid the trees he’d planted and cared for, every seed, yard of dirt, and precious memory put here for her.
Long black hair fell over the slender lines of her shoulders, framing round, perfectly-shaped tits. The curl of her fingers against her thighs drew his gaze to the feminine curves of hips, the flat expanse of stomach, and the shadow of hair that had grown back between her legs.
A growl escaped his throat, and he grabbed himself through the jeans, running a palm against his aching cock. She was built for him, every dip, arch, muscle, and bone, all his to worship and protect.
He prowled toward her, soaking in her quickening breaths and the way her gaze tracked him as he circled her. When he stopped behind her, her toes flexed in the grass. He took his time examining her sinful ass and strong, sinuous backbone before dropping the belt and sweeping his hands down her arms.
The marks had faded to yellowish bruises, and he hadn’t needed to cut her again. The first time had been a strong enough statement, and she exuded the timid slave act like a pro.
“Matias…” She shuddered, and it wasn’t an act. “I’m afraid.”