Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
I release a ragged scream as he pinches again, a satisfied smirk on his perfect lips, but that only furrows his brow deeper, rage embedded in his cosmic-blue eyes. He drags the knife from his mouth, slipping it back into the leather holder on his hip as he sets his jaw, and I shrink under the steel of his gaze.
“You can scream the fucking clouds out of the sky there, baby. No one is coming to save you.”
Dampness grows where my panties should be as I squeeze my eyes shut, praying for this to be a dark and dirty wet dream, though his hot breath on my cheek quickly snubs out that hope.
I wonder if he’s going to kill me. Bury me in a shallow grave in the desert with all the other chubby stepdaughter snitches.
“Please,” I try again. “Just…please. Dad.” I try to burn his eyes with mine as all I can think about is how huge his cock felt as it slipped up and down between my ass cheeks.
The dark pleasure swallowed me as his warm release landed on my body. Then, when he rubbed it in, an orgasm ripped through me like a cyclone as I bit my lip, refusing him the satisfaction of knowing what he was doing pushed me over the edge into a vortex of forbidden bliss.
His lips pull back into a dazzling, perfect, Hollywood smile and I freeze. In all the years he was with my mom, I don’t ever remember him smiling like this.
It’s wicked, and the thoughts of how gorgeous he is must forever be buried. I cough as the gut punch of heat below my bellybutton challenges that thought.
Warm lips move over my cheek as I turn my head away with a wince. I’m lost for a second in his scent. His cologne drifts into my nostrils. I’m sure it must be called Mafia God because that’s how he smells.
He’s twenty-one years my senior, and I despise the way his proximity gives my clit a thumping heartbeat of its own.
He runs his tongue over the spot where he kissed my cheek, then down my neck, lapping at me like a dog.
“You taste just like I’d hoped, Bijou. Sweet and pure. But don’t worry, I’ll fuck all that innocence out of you soon enough.”
I grunt, bucking and twisting, the ties cutting into my wrists and ankles. Then I gather my breath for another scream, which he swallows with his lips as they crush onto mine.
Oh, God. He tastes better than he smells, if that’s even possible.
I will not kiss him back.
I will not kiss him back.
Oh shit, I’m kissing him back.
My tongue has gone rogue and is forging forward through his lips.
Stop, Bijou! You can’t French kiss your stepfather…right? I can’t, can I?
My tongue continues its warm explorations as my inner muscles clench. His mouth envelops mine with an angry growl, the invasion of his warm tongue twisting with mine.
It’s not a soft kiss. Hardly.
It’s demanding and ruthless, and it curls my toes and clenches my fists as his hand slips from inside my dress. He repositions me with a tug and a thud so I’m facing up, strong fingers moving down, grabbing at my thighs now as I swallow back a moan and stretch my fingers in front of my mid-section.
I drive my bound hands forward, my fingers curling around the handle of his knife just visible as he leans forward, opening his suit jacket just enough.
I grunt on a burning abdominal crunch, draw it back and drive it forward on a scream.
With feline like reflexes, he catches the knife before I can sink it into his ribs. I cry out in defeat as he twists my wrist, the blade falling from my fingers as he stands to full height, his face a mask of fury.
“You want it like that?” he says. “I like a little fight. I’ll take out all my frustration on your pussy later. Then your ass, so keep it up. You’re only hurting yourself.”
He swipes his hand over his stomach, a hint of blood trickling from a rip in his shirt. He grins, eyebrows raised in mock appreciation.
“I was going to be gentle with you the first time, but looks like you’re not into gentle. So I’ll fuck you like a rabid dog instead. Mount you from behind, spit I your mouth and split that baby pussy of yours in two. If my dick could form a knot, I’d be the happiest man on the fucking planet locked together with my sweet little bitch.”
Fear and awe battle inside me as he shoves my knees wide, his dark words making my insides dive and spin in a shameful dance.
My ankles ache with the tight binding as he flashes the retrieved knife in the sunlight. This time, it’s heading for my most tender places. A flow of back-peddling apologies flow out of me like melted butter.