Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 129986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
“Dare, stop,” I say, reaching down to gently remove his hand.
His lips curve up. “Yeah, that’s what you said.” Rather than stop, his palm closes around my breast and he squeezes. Leaning close, he whispers in my ear, “I didn’t listen, though.”
That is so fucked up.
I should be repulsed, horrified.
“Dare…”
“Sh,” he says, fingering my nipple and making me gasp against his shoulder. He stays on top of me, but shifts his position so he can use his knee to nudge my legs apart.
“Dare,” I repeat, more breathless, more conflicted.
He hears me, but ignores me.
“You have to stop,” I tell him, meaning it. “I told you I didn’t want to do anything like this—”
Before I can finish, his hand covers my mouth. I gasp, startled, but he keeps it there as he teases my nipple and presses his lips against my neck.
Oh, God.
Pleasure dances down my spine as his lips explore the sensitive column. His thumb moves back and forth over my nipple, stoking my fear and arousal in near equal measures. I feel so helpless pinned beneath him, his hand over my mouth so I can’t even ask him to stop.
He moves lower, his mouth hungrily claiming my throat. His grip on my mouth is so tight, I’m getting scared. I turn my head to try to break his grip, but it only tightens more.
I don’t know if he can feel my panic, but if he can, he doesn’t seem to care. He kisses my neck harder, then he bites me as he pinches my nipple. I cry out, but the sound is muffled against his palm.
Is this what it’s like to be with him?
It’s a little terrifying. Maybe only because of our circumstances, but he isn’t listening to me, and I’m not sure what to do.
Tears sting my eyes and I try again to break free. But he doesn’t let me. He kisses me harder, his tongue lapping at my skin and soothing the spot he just bit. He’s paying my breasts more attention now, squeezing and groping them like he owns me.
“Dare,” I cry against his hand. It’s muffled, but he knows I’m trying to say his name—or at least say something.
“Sh,” he murmurs, roughly kissing his way up my neck and along my jaw. He kisses my face right at the edge of where his hand is sealed over my mouth. It feels like an acknowledgment of my distress, and a deliberate way of letting me know he’s not going to move his hand.
I blink rapidly, spreading the moisture gathered at the corners of my eyes.
A tear squeezes out and he sees it.
He cocks his head, lets go of my boob, and catches the tear on the pad of his thumb. He examines it, then looks into my eyes as he puts his thumb into his mouth and licks it off.
My eyes widen, my tummy dropping in mild horror.
Did he just taste my tears?
His lips tug up, a glint of amusement in his deep brown eyes. “Are you scared, mermaid?”
I swallow. I hate admitting it, but I nod my head.
I don’t know what he’s going to do to me. This is all so fucked up and confusing.
“Good,” he says, his eyes darkening with satisfaction. He brushes his thumb across my cheek and my breath hitches. “You should be scared. Next time you think about opening your legs for someone else, remember that you married a madman, and cheating on him is ill-advised.”
My eyes widen, my tummy pitching.
He finally moves his hand, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement as he moves off me and falls back onto the pillows beside me.
I can scarcely breathe. My tummy flutters with nerves. It takes me a second to process that I guess he was… playing?
Was he?
It sure didn’t feel like he was playing. It felt real. I thought he might actually…
I feel a little shaky, but I also feel dumb if he was just playing the scenario I dreamed up in the first place. He was much more committed to the role than I was.
“You okay?” he asks, looking over at me.
I nod, but my stomach feels sick. “Yeah.” I force a smile and look over at him. I can still feel his bruising kisses on my neck. “I’m fine.”
I tell him I’m fine, but my heart and my body feel so confused.
“Come here,” he says.
His tone is almost gentle, more reassuring than I expect from him.
Part of me wants to get off the bed and get away from him, but the overwhelming majority nudges me to do as he says.
I turn until I’m cuddled up against him, his strong arm wrapped around me. I try to relax, closing my eyes and breathing in his scent.
He holds me and strokes my hair.
He’s the one who mildly traumatized me in the first place, but he’s also my only source of comfort, so I let him pet me and calm me down. Now that I’m not afraid he’s going to make me do something I’m not ready for, it’s easier to relax.