Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 182641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 913(@200wpm)___ 731(@250wpm)___ 609(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 913(@200wpm)___ 731(@250wpm)___ 609(@300wpm)
Opening them, I lock on to his gaze as he drags my skirt up to my hips, palming my ass before bending slightly for a better look. I glance back as well, heat flooding me as my gaze lands on the spot he traces smack-dab in the middle of my left ass cheek.
He shifts then, dropping to one knee at my side.
His lips brush over the still-sensitive flesh and I drag my fingernails through his thick, black hair. “It’s almost healed,” he murmurs against my skin, eyes popping up to meet mine. “Does it hurt still, baby?”
Warmth spreads through me as I stare down at him, the man I never saw coming, who was working his way to me all along without our knowledge.
Slowly, I shake my head and we look back to the spot.
To his branding, fresh and proud on my skin.
The double-walled B, identical to the marking on his neck in design, the words woven in his very own handwritten script within it.
His, even in death.
Bastian pushes to his feet, his hand wrapping around my throat ever so lightly to guide my lips to his own. He waits, and I give him what he wants, a little nip to his lip ring.
His mouth falls on mine then, fingers absentmindedly tracing over the collar along my neck because, let’s be honest, it’s not a choker, at least not in his eyes.
“I’m gonna fuck you in this skirt when we get back,” he promises. “Bend you right over the balcony that faces the manor, so everyone can see how good you take me.”
My core clenches at his words and I melt into him, unaware my hand is reaching for his belt until his fist closes around my wrist.
“Touch me and it’s over. I will shed your clothes from your body and the fifteen fucking minutes it took me to get this suit on will have been a waste ’cause it’ll be coming off and won’t go back on.” His knee presses where I want him, and I suck in a sharp breath when his teeth scrape along the underside of my jaw. “I’m more than good with that option, so make your move, little thief. Pull my cock out or step back.”
Goose bumps spread along my skin, and I blow out a long breath, hating being forced to go against what I want when, since Bastian stepped into my father’s shoes, he’s encouraged, dare I say, demanded I do the opposite.
It’s liberating being his, and I am his in every sense of the word.
The transition from my father to Bastian was as smooth as one could expect, and while I was sure it would take time to get the men who work for and with my father a while to accept the shift in power from the top dog to a much, much younger one, it’s been far … cleaner than I expected it to be.
It doesn’t hurt that Bastian managed to do in three months’ time what my father couldn’t in six years—befriend Enzo Fikile, my sister’s … well, that’s a fucking mess I’ve yet to sort out.
“So, are you two fuckin’, or are we leavin’?” Hayze calls from the doorway. “’Cause I vote for the ‘bend her over the railing part,’ but give me five minutes to get over there and bang down that wicked woman’s door ’til she lets me in to watch.”
“She’s not going to let you in if you keep sending drones through her balcony doors at night,” I tell him, smoothing down my uniform and spinning to face him.
Hayze grins, holding his hands out as if to say tell me I’m pretty, and he kind of is, in a rugged, troublemaker sort of way. Like if Barbie made a boy band doll and roughed it up a bit, that would be Hayze. He’s not so bad, even if his new favorite pastime seems to be driving Bronx mad. It will be entertaining to watch him learn the hard way she hates to be chased. She’s a hunter, my gorgeous friend. Easy prey is of no value to her.
Plus, she won’t go near anyone who might actually like her for her, she’s emotionally fucked up like that.
“If she’d go back to painting naked out there, I wouldn’t have to, but that’s a problem for another day. Now is anyone gonna tell me I look like a fly motherfucker in this?” He grins, sweeping his hands down his solid, royal-blue suit, a black button-up beneath it.
Bastian chuckles. “You look good, my man.”
“Thank you, you look almost as good as me. Now let’s go.” With that, Hayze spins and walks out.
Bastian comes up beside me, grabs my hand, and leads me out of the room. We curve down the stairs, out the back door and around the fountain until we’re walking through the connecting gate to the Greyson Estate.