Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 130048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
I simply sat back down, spread my legs like a cocky cunt, then pointed at my lap. “Face away, sit down, and get reacquainted with what’s going inside you once I’ve eaten my dinner.”
A sharp intake of breath as she slowly did as I requested. Turning on the spot, her body looked even more enticing being shadowed by innocent white before she backed into me and sat primly on my knee.
Not good enough.
Wrapping my arm around her waist, I tugged her back until her ass thudded against my lower belly. Pushing her knees apart, I made her straddle me. The heat between her bare legs fucking incinerated me.
The fine line I had to walk seemed a little more frayed and a lot more treacherous the moment she forced herself to relax. She felt far too good, far too breakable and beautiful and mine.
My body reacted with a surge of compulsive, corrupted need.
In a heartbeat, I became hard, achy, and pissed the fuck off.
Flashing a look at Charles down the table, I fisted Ily’s left breast. “Can’t wait for dessert.”
Charles chuckled, his attention on his own slave. A handsome male jewel with a dark blond Mohawk. “Yeah, me too.”
Ily shifted on my lap, trying to get comfortable.
I groaned involuntarily as she rubbed against my throbbing dick. My hand seized her breast; my forehead crashed against her spine. “Keep doing that, and I’ll have you as an entrée, not dessert.”
She froze.
I rolled her nipple around in my fingers.
The urge to take her overwhelmed every useless sense.
She made me so fucking hard and hyper-fucking-sensitive.
Was this what all men felt when it came to lust?
How had I been missing out on this all my life?
Why was my brain so toxic that I got hard in a room full of men and slaves? Why did my body come alive while fondling a girl I didn’t know—a girl who didn’t have a choice—all while the threat of death hung over us?
Life would be so much simpler if I was normal…
My hips shot up on their own accord, driving my erection against her ass.
She made me want too badly, crave too darkly.
She gasped and tipped forward. Her hands landed on my knees, holding on with sharp nails.
Every muscle in my legs seized as blackness dripped over my mind.
In true society, this would never happen. In the real world, I would never be able to take out my dick, tell her to bend over, and fuck her on the table in front of everyone.
But in this one…
Christ, it wasn’t just encouraged, it was expected, and that…that messed me up on my most basic, primordial level.
Do it…
Give the order…
You know you want to.
“Get the fuck off me.” I shoved her away with trembling hands.
It was either remove myself from temptation or give in.
And no fucking way would I give in.
I’m better than this.
I’m good.
She tripped off me, swaying a little as I caught her wrist and spun her to face me.
Too many eyes watching. Too many men waiting.
I couldn’t ask how she was or what’d happened to her while I’d thrown up in the shower then passed out in a catatonic fugue.
All I could do was cling to my self-control and keep fighting.
“Kneel.” I bared my teeth. “Kneel beside me and open your pretty little mouth.”
Charles chuckled.
Ily stiffened.
With a guarded look, she lowered her chin.
And then…ever so slowly and so damn elegantly, she dropped to her knees and opened wide.
Chapter Twenty
………………………….
Ily
I WANTED TO CLOSE MY eyes.
I didn’t want to watch him unbuckle and unzip. I didn’t want to see all the other bastards leering as Henri took out his cock and forced me to blow him in front of everyone.
Only…no zipper sounded.
No command came.
I looked up and almost choked as a forkful of something rich and creamy speared into my mouth.
I tensed as Henri loomed over me in his white shirt and black slacks. His hair seemed particularly sleek and his cheeks achingly hollow. He looked as if he’d aged a decade since we’d been separated, and I had the unbearable urge to ask what happened.
Why were his eyes haunted?
Why did an aura of loss and pain drag behind him like a cape?
“Eat it,” he demanded in a thunderous baritone.
Obedience flowed through me, followed by self-preservation.
Food.
Glorious, wonderful food.
Wrapping my lips around the tines, I sucked off whatever mouthful he’d fed me and almost melted as flavours exploded on my tongue. Garlic and pepper, caramel and butter. Pea puree with something else. Something deeper and earthier. Truffles perhaps or maybe—
“Open.”
I hastily swallowed and did as he asked.
Another forkful. This one a piece of carrot covered in crunchy batter and salted to perfection.
He never looked away as I chewed, his attention locked onto my lips. “As long as there’s something inside your mouth, I can’t put what I really want in there.”