Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 113464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
The first sip isn’t enough to rid me of the mental image of a pregnant Bianca, her body swollen, thanks to the life growing inside her. The life I placed there. It’s too enticing to dismiss that image, and I allow it to percolate in my imagination as I sip my scotch and pace the room.
Sweet, trusting Bianca. Glowing, radiant, carrying my child. How perfect would that be? The very idea spreads warmth in my chest that has nothing to do with the drink in my hand. A pleasure that goes beyond the physical.
If I didn’t already know I was going to hell for the things I’ve done, I’d certainly earn a spot thanks to the direction my thoughts are running. The girl is twenty years my junior. She has her entire life ahead of her.
A future. A fucking boyfriend. I grit my teeth at the last thought. I want to kill the bastard. He doesn’t deserve her. Yet he’s the one who has her.
And here I sit, imagining myself claiming her. Owning her body, impregnating her, allowing her to carry the evidence of my claim for the world to see. There is no worthwhile excuse for that.
I focus my attention on the grounds beyond the picture windows behind my desk. It’s dark and quiet, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t eyes watching for any sign of trouble. One of the conditions of my world is the insistent need for guards on the premises at all times. Not so much for myself, but for my daughter. She doesn’t deserve to suffer pain or worse, because of what I do.
Again, my thoughts circulate back to Bianca. How could I consider bringing her into this life? She’s a child compared to me. Could I trust her to guard my secrets or to listen and obey me for her own protection? Could I open myself up to her and trust her? I’ve trusted one other woman in my life, and it’s been a disaster ever since. It makes me wonder how I can look at Bianca and picture her pregnant. That’s my biggest fear, a nightmare brought to life, but I still feel the need to claim her and make her mine burning in my veins.
The answer is simple. I couldn’t ever trust her. But that won’t stop me from entertaining the idea of storming into my daughter’s bedroom to find her. Dragging her down the hall to my bedroom so I can tie her to the bed and make sure she can’t escape while I feast on her pussy until she passes out.
No doubt she’d seize up in fear, terrified at the prospect of the big, bad, dangerous villain she’s secretly lusted after finally giving her what she’s desired all this time. I can almost hear her sharp, rapid breathing in my ear. The tiny gasps and barely stifled moans she’d make while I woke her body with my hands, lips, and tongue.
She would learn how dangerous it is to play with fire, to confess to the dark desires she’s entertained. It would’ve been better for both of us if she’d walked away tonight.
It’s too late now.
I’ll never forget the way she looked right fucking through me into the deep confines of my soul as she creamed on her fingers.
Fuck, my cock is hard all over again. I fall into my desk chair and set my drink aside in favor of pulling myself from my shorts. How long has it been since anyone or anything has excited me enough to get me hard so soon after coming? I honestly can’t remember. I’m that jaded, not to mention no longer as young as I used to be.
The ringing phone on my desk startles me, and unnecessary guilt pierces my chest the instant I identify the number on the screen. Of all the times for my ex to call. It’s like she knows I’m enjoying myself and wants to bring an end to it.
Sometimes, I wonder what I saw in her. How could I have been so blind? How did I miss the emptiness in her? An endless cave of screaming misery which she disguised with a tight body. I fell for it. Pussy will do that to a man, I suppose. A lesson I learned the hard way.
“Amanda,” I growl, cradling the receiver between my ear and shoulder. “To what do I owe the dubious pleasure?”
She’s silent long enough to make me wonder if she’s on the other end before muttering, “Oh, hello. I didn’t expect you to answer.”
I blink slowly. What the fuck? “You called at two in the morning, assuming I wouldn’t be awake to answer, huh? Why? So you could leave a voicemail like a coward?” It’s all too predictable. “Don’t you know better by now than to underestimate me?”
“How’s the weather up there on your high horse? I had a busy day and only now had the opportunity to call. I imagine Tatum’s still out celebrating. How did the graduation go?”