Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 148238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
His stomach rippled, tensing as my pants moved the fine hairs on his upper thighs. Bowing over me, he pulled my hips so my feet pressed against the floor then knocked away my elbows so I sprawled flat on my back.
I cried out as his hot, wet mouth captured my nipple, sucking it deep and hard.
My hands instantly flew to his hair, crushing his face against my chest.
He stormed upright, breaking my fragile hold on his long dark hair. “What did I just make you promise?”
I gulped.
Not waiting for my reply, he shook his head and stalked toward his walk-in closet. Coming back a few seconds later, he held out a gold tie. “Give me your hands.”
I blinked. A riot of thoughts went through my head, but I snatched onto the strangest one. “You’re a president of a biker gang, yet you have a tie?”
His lips twisted into a cold smile. “There’s so much you don’t know about me. Now give me your hands.”
“I want to know everything there is to know.”
He scowled. “We never get what we want. Learn to live with disappointment.”
Then he pounced. Effortlessly, he pinched my wrists together and tied the silky material around me. The second I was imprisoned, he plucked me from the end of the bed, marched me to the side of the mattress, and patted my ass. “Climb into the middle. Get on all fours.”
I looked over my shoulder. His face was unreadable, blocking all lust or clues. He wanted me—there was no doubt about that—and I wanted him—the wetness between my legs was a testament to how much I did—but he’d shut down a part of himself that I missed.
The part I’d seen very briefly last night and in the changing room today.
“Next time I tell you to do something—you do it. Immediately, remember?” Spanking me, he grabbed my waist, and practically threw me on the bed. Crawling with bound wrists wasn’t easy, but I did as he’d asked and moved to the center of the bed.
There was nothing vulnerable about this man. He was there to take and not give anything in return.
“Spread your legs,” Kill ordered.
The bed creaked as he climbed behind me, the heat of his naked thighs warming my backside. I jolted as his fingers dug into my hips, tugging at the yellow G-string.
Slowly, he dragged them down my thighs, letting them imprison my knees on the bedspread. I waited to see if he would tell me to remove them, but he only spanked me again—not hard, but enough to keep me very obedient. The heat on my skin ensured I would jump to his next instruction.
“Wider.”
I opened wider, fighting against the tightness of the panties wrapped around my knees. The degradation of not seeing what he was doing and being kept in the dark as to what he planned made my heart gallop like a feral pony.
He leaned to the side of the bed and with long arms and pulled out a blue wrapper from his bedside table.
I tensed. He was going to take me so soon?
What happened to the passionate man in the changing room? What happened to his fiery touch and insanely possessive kisses?
My tummy clenched at the thought of being used like this.
Kill placed the condom on the mattress beside my knee. His breathing hitched and my head lolled forward as his touch landed between my legs. He stroked my pussy, going from clit to entrance. There was nothing tentative about his fingers. This wasn’t even foreplay—it was a means to an end.
I bit my lip as he stroked me again, dragging his large fingers through my wetness—the wetness he’d conjured when he’d kissed me so damn passionately.
What was this? This impersonal act reeked of self-preservation on his part. He didn’t want me to face him, touch him—give any hint that I had feelings for him other than sexual.
He’s protecting himself.
“Fuck, you’re so ready for me.” I didn’t know if that was awe or disgust in his voice.
My mind was intrigued with what was happening but my heart was revolted. I didn’t sign up to be used like a plaything. I’d agreed to let him connect with me.
Every second that connection faded, until we might’ve been strangers and money was about to exchange hands.
Stop this.
The word echoed in my brain.
You can’t.
My hair stuck to my neck as my body flushed. I had to go through with this. I had to break inside his heart if I had any hope at learning more. Maybe sex was the key.
Deciding to take what this was—a release for both of us and nothing more—I murmured, “I was ready for you the moment you kissed me in the changing room.”
He made a noise in his chest. “Yes, that was a mistake on my part.”
“A mistake?” My voice turned soft. “A kiss can never be a mistake. I loved it.”