Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
It doesn’t work.
"Did anything at all tip you off that the guy you were with was using you at any point?"
"Of course," I tell him. "But I didn't think much of that either, because every man I've ever been with was using me for one reason or another."
Truth. I gave him the truth.
Finally.
“Did you know that the man you were with was on another’s payroll? Did you know he was working for someone?”
I don’t know how to answer that either without implicating myself. I think about what to say, but apparently, I’m too slow, because the next thing I know he’s spanking me again, hard, and this time he really means business.
He’s lecturing me like he’s in charge of me, and it makes me want to punch him. “When I ask you a question, I expect an answer. No answer is disobedience. Hesitation is disobedience. You have five seconds to answer before your ass feels my belt.”
I freeze. At the threat of him taking his belt to me, I don’t know how to respond. I realize in a panic I don’t even remember the question.
He shifts, still holding me against him, and I feel him reach for his waist.
“No! Dario! Ask again!”
But he doesn’t listen. With one rapid tug, he holds his belt in his hand and slides it along my ass.
It’s at once scary and erotic.
"I said," he says in a curt, stern tone, "did you know that Gray was working for someone else?" I feel the cold leather on my body, and I'm frozen. I don't know how to answer the question. And I know my time is up. I tense, ready for the strike, but nothing can prepare me for the way it feels.
I expect it to burn, I expect excruciating pain like he's taking a whip to me, but he's doing something different. He slides the leather over my skin, until every cell feels as if it's primed. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out and I’m not sure what I’d say if I could. My hands reach wildly in front of me until I feel his pants. I anchor my fingers in his clothes because I feel like I’m going to fly away if I don’t. I stop breathing when he lifts his arm. But when the belt finally lands with a swish and a whap, the bite of leather is nothing but a sensual caress.
He does it again, and again, and again. I feel if he continues, I'm going to climax right over his lap. My cheeks flush at the thought. I’ll never be able to look at him again. The whole situation is vaguely disturbing, my emotions perplexing and unpredictable. Anxiety knots inside me because I’m out of control and he’s taken full command.
I don’t trust him, but I have no other choice.
If only I could be sure of my own reactions, but even those betray me. It’s impossible to calm my erratic pulse, my mind an unruly jumble of fear and hope.
“Dario,” I finally manage to breathe, though I don’t know why I’m calling his name or what I’m asking.
His hands find my breasts again. I hear a little moan that rushes over my skin like the rumbling of thunder. I don't realize at first it’s coming from me.
“You’re a good girl, aren’t you, baby? I believe you, Vivia.” As he speaks, he traces his rough fingers over the softest, fullest part of my breasts, weighing and worshipping them as if I’m as delicate as fragile glass. The juxtaposition of the hard punishment just moments before and the tender way he touches me now makes a flicker of disquiet hum along my nerves.
Suffice it to say, I have never been touched like this before. Whereas Gray’s sexual advances were bold and fearless, there was an unpracticed, selfish flavor to them that put me on guard. He wanted to take. Dario, however… my God, the way he touches me it’s like his life’s purpose is to pleasure me, and he knows exactly how to do it.
The interlacing sensations of fear and arousal make me pant. I’m dizzy and lightheaded, still helplessly prone over his sturdy, unyielding lap. Far back in my mind, I'm aware that this is intentional. In no way has he let me off the hook. He hasn't softened even an inch. This is all part of his plan to master and manipulate me.
And goddamn, is it working.
I’d promise undying devotion, I’d give him anything he wants, hell I'd give him my firstborn child if he only touches me again. I need him to satisfy the yawning need, the almost feral pressure between my legs that’s driving me mad. I would fall down and worship his cock if it brought me relief. The wait is interminable.
As I moan and make a complete fool of myself, mumbling incoherently and begging for him to touch me, he alternates lashes of his belt with sensual touches across my naked ass, between my pulsing legs. The pressure builds, and builds, until I can't breathe.