Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
I open my blurry, tear-filled eyes wide and stare at him. “Yes, sir.”
“Very good,” Phoenix says. “You just earned yourself a comfort item.”
Phoenix removes the knife and replaces it with the palm of his hand. Without warning, he inserts a finger into my pussy and begins pumping it in and out of me. “Look me in the eyes while I finger-fuck you,” he orders. “Get used to seeing my face when I make you come.”
I gasp as I struggle to not close my legs in an attempt to protect my virtue. Tears of indignity run down my face as I also fight the urge to grind against his hand to drive him deeper inside me.
Another finger is added to my degradation. Two fingers, but only my one tiny hole now being raided.
He spreads me wide as he claims what is now his. I want to scream, to demand for him to stop, but the only sound that escapes my lips is a deep, guttural moan.
Just as the most embarrassing orgasm nears, he pulls out his fingers as quickly as he started and chuckles.
“Too soon for pleasure,” Phoenix says.
He replaces his hand with the blade and begins rubbing the knife up and down in a slow and sensual manner. He inhales again, brings his lips to my ear, and whispers, “I smell you, dove. I can smell those naughty juices of yours. I have a feeling we are going to have great fun paying your dues.”
I begin to cry harder— this time more out of shame and humiliation than fear. My body hungers for more, and I hate myself for it.
I am his. His.
No. Wrong.
He is making me his.
There is nothing I can do. Nothing I can say. My cries grow louder and echo off the walls of the empty room. It’s a symphony of misery. A chorus of terror. And as I look at Phoenix, I realize he’ll be the man orchestrating it all.
Phoenix then leaves briefly and returns with a thin gray wool blanket. He tosses it to the floor and smiles. “Your first item of comfort.” He goes without another word.
Chapter
Seventeen
Ani
I stand alone with Phoenix. He has a thin scar that runs down his left cheek. It’s subtle but just visible enough to make me wonder what caused it. I’d never seen it before, but then again, I was lost in the daze of butterflies and first kisses.
“I’ve upped security surveillance of the house. So, if you even think there is a chance of escape, I will get that thought out of your head right now. You can run, but I’ll hunt you down, and you won’t like the consequences for that act. I’ll allow every single man who is involved in the hunt to have his chance to punish you. So, the choice is yours.” Phoenix smiles, but it is not warm and inviting. No. A smile of evil. Phoenix removes the knife from my panties.
He raises the blade to my eye level. Glancing at it, I can see it’s coated with my signs of fucked-up lust and twisted sexual need.
It glistens with sin.
Phoenix is right. I am a dirty girl. Yes, filthy. So fucking wrong. I should be screaming. Demanding freedom. I should be fighting to escape, but instead I’m nearly coming on a weapon used to kill.
There is a sparkle in Phoenix’s eye and a smirk on his face as he returns the blade to its holder on his belt. “I advise you to be a good little girl. Do you understand?”
I nod and say softly, “Yes, sir. I’m not going to try to leave. I want to prove to you that I can be trusted.” I don’t want me or my sister to be on the outs with the Godwins—whatever that means. I don’t want to suffer either and be miserable the entire time I’m here. I don’t. I can do this. I can earn my comforts. I already have one. I have a long way to go to furnish this room, but I know the only way to survive this ordeal is by focusing on one comfort at a time. I can do this. I have no choice but to do this. I also want my Phoenix back. I want the man I first met in the attic, and I know he’s there beneath the anger and the fury. “What are you going to do to me now?”
It suddenly dawns on me that I am still standing with my arms at my sides. Like I’m a private in the army standing before a general.
Yes, sir.
No, sir.
Whatever you say, sir.
Only this time, the private is wearing nothing but a pair of white lace panties. I don’t have to look down to know my nipples are hard, nor do I have to press my legs together to feel the leftover wetness from the kiss of the knife.