Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Our breaths mingle in anticipation. Gentle fingers stroke my chin, then cup my jaw. Blue eyes light with unquenchable fire, holding my gaze for long moments before lowering his mouth to mine and brushing my lips with his. I wish this were real, that he wanted me like I want him.
But I shouldn’t want that. I know who he is now… who he really is… and it’s too damn dangerous for me to allow myself to even begin to entertain any romantic thoughts.
I mean, God, I’m a slave on a ship for him. Does it get any worse than that?
He must feel me tense or perhaps his own inner censor warns him to stop, as quickly as he kissed me, he stops.
“Let’s go,” he says harshly. He stands, and I tumble to the floor, nearly falling but he grabs my elbow and rights me before I do.
The spell is broken.
The clock struck midnight.
My carriage is turning back into a pumpkin, my riches to rags.
My ragged breathing stills, and I right myself with a heavy sigh.
“You listen well to me, little girl,” he warns. The angry, stern taskmaster is back. I clench my fists as I listen.
Jerk. You’re such a jerk.
“Yes, sir?” I snap back, not even bothering to mask my anger at this game of cat and mouse. “What is it, sir?”
“I want nothing but utter obedience from you both inside and outside the walls of this cabin. Am I clear?”
“Crystal,” I say with derision, barely refraining from curling my damn lip up at him. “Do what you say,” I parrot. “Obey your every command. Speak to you with respect, let’s see… anything I’m forgetting?”
He weaves his fingers in my hair so hard and fast I gasp when he tugs my head back. “Respect,” he snaps. “You forgot respect. In your tone, your posture, your actions, and your words.”
“Only one problem, sir,” I say through clenched teeth. “Respect is earned, not demanded.” I know in my head I shouldn’t mouth off to him, that this isn’t going to end well for me. I can still feel the cut of the cane he wielded on me, and I try to stop my mouth, but I hate how he’s playing with me.
He isn’t amused. “Perhaps I should school that mouth of yours before we leave this room? Hmm?” And hell, that gives me a little reluctant tingle.
“Whatever you wish, master,” I drawl so sarcastically, I literally bite my lip after I say it. But I’m too angry with him to obey without question. I’m not sure what type of reaction I’m trying to get out of him, or if I’m just behaving on instinct. You know, it’s a lot easier saying “show him your loyalty” than actually fucking doing it.
And hell, if it doesn’t turn me on watching the way his brows snap together and his eyes flash at me, the stern clench of his jaw and the way his grip firms on my arm.
With a rapid, harsh tug, he drags me to my knees and sits on the edge of the bed, pulling me between his legs before he unfastens his zipper.
My mind flashes, warning.
What exactly might “school that mouth” mean? I think I’m about to find out, and hell, I’m already wet.
His hand fists around his cock when he freezes, as if he’s acting on instinct and just realized what he’s doing. My heart stutters in my chest, because I suddenly know what he’s doing. I suspect “schooling that mouth of mine” would mean his cock between my lips in forced submission.
I really, really need to curb my temper and watch my mouth. Though my anger is justified, it’s not helping this situation.
I swallow hard, not sure what to do next. Apologize? Push him away?
Or knock his socks off by giving him the best fucking blow job of his life?
He must feel what I do, he has to. This exchange of power is electric between us. Dynamite. The air between us fairly sparks with anger and passion, the pungent scent of arousal so strong I nearly moan out loud.
He works his jaw and reaches for my mouth, grasping my cheeks between his fingers so hard it hurts. “I’m not taking you out there and risking fucking everything up because you don’t know how to obey,” he spits out. “You’re unpredictable and that makes you a goddamn liability. If I can’t trust you to watch your mouth, I can’t trust you out there with me at all.” He looks to the door then back to me. “Is that what you want, Taara? To be cuffed to this bed for hours while I work that floor alone? Take another woman?”
No. Oh God, no. He knows I don’t want that, and it makes me want to slap his beautiful face for even suggesting such a thing. I hate that he’s playing the jealousy card. It gives him that much more control over me.