Total pages in book: 206
Estimated words: 192184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 961(@200wpm)___ 769(@250wpm)___ 641(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 192184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 961(@200wpm)___ 769(@250wpm)___ 641(@300wpm)
“I need you. I want us to figure this out. Together, we can–”
“Five!” he yelled and then he turned around and faced me and whipped his gloves off and to the floor.
I stood still, staring him in the eyes, summoning courage while facing the rage emerging on his face.
“You’re not fucking Dumbo the goddamn elephant who needs the feather to fly, Tommy Ferrano. You don’t need the necklace. I’ll be the necklace. Fuck me, take me however you need to, then hold me afterwards and tell me you love me. Do what you need to do for us both to get back to where we need to be.”
I took a step forward.
“Six,” he said it softly, shaking his head back and forth, his voice and his eyes stone cold, warning me.
I took a step back. “What happens if I’m still here when you get to ten? Are you gonna hurt me? Are you going to…what? Kill me?”
“Seven.” He took one step forward.
“Babe,” I pleaded.
“If I get to ten, Tia,” he growled. “If I get there and you’re here, you are getting hurt. Because it means you’re never allowed to leave. This is your one chance, baby girl. One chance. Take it or accept me for the fucked up, sadistic prick I am. Take it or be prepared to be everything I need you to be for me. The love of my life. The only thing that keeps me from going postal. Be sure you’re ready, ready to be there for me, to be what I need whether that means I need to hold you, spank you, whip you, fuck you, destroy you.”
I gulped.
His voice was low, guttural; words came through clenched teeth. “Eight. Make your mind up right the fuck now!”
The room might as well have been devoid of oxygen.
“Nine.”
He folded his arms across his chest and his brows were up. I stared at him. And then I opened my mouth and closed it. Then I opened it again and blew out a long breath, then I turned my back on him and went to leave. I got three steps away and I stopped in my tracks and stood there with my back to him.
He said nothing. I stood still. Time stood still.
Then, after an eternity, he said, “Ten.” His voice sounded hoarse, pained. And that’s when I started to run for the stairs.
A few paces and he tackled me to the floor. He was on top of me.
“What in the fuck?” He had my arms pinned above my head.
I went limp and looked at him.
“You wait until I get to ten and that’s when you decide to run?” Rage shot out of his eyes and his voice boomed like thunder. “What’s that supposed to fucking mean?”
“It means it’s too late. I can’t go.”
“Do you or don’t you want to fucking go?”
“I don’t. But I wanted you to stop me, show me you couldn’t let me go.” I wriggled one arm free from his grasp, took the iPhone out of my robe pocket, and hit play on the video app; it played the Stone Sour version of Wicked Game. It was the closest thing I’d found to the version we’d heard in Vegas.
He grabbed me roughly and flipped me onto my belly, sending my phone sliding several feet away. The song kept playing. Then my robe was yanked off me and I was naked on the cold basement floor. My hips were lifted and I heard him fumble and then he impaled me with one slam of his hips. He had me a few inches off the floor by holding my throat and his mouth was right at my ear,
“You’re mine,” he growled.
“Yeah,” I breathed.
“Fuck!” he grunted.
“I love you,” I whimpered.
“What have you fucking done you stupid, beautiful girl?” he moaned, his voice strangled sounding. He kept pounding into me from behind.
“I know,” I breathed, “I couldn’t help it. I fell in love with you. I’m yours.”
He let go of my throat, grabbed my hair roughly and groaned into my ear as he pushed maybe ten or fifteen times before he came inside of me as the song hit the chorus.
Then I was up, off the floor, in his arms. He grabbed my phone and stopped the song from playing, tossed the robe over me, my face buried in his neck, and he carried me up the stairs and back to our bedroom where he was ready to go immediately and where he then fucked me hard for the next hour or ten, I didn’t know, not letting me come, just pounding into me, using his cock and his mouth and his fingers to repeatedly and torturously bring me right to the edge, to the brink, and then stopping and pounding into me some more, saying dirty, filthy words into my ear about how I was his to fuck, how hard he was going to fuck me, about how I didn’t get to come until he allowed me to come, and that today he’d fuck me not only until I couldn’t move but until he couldn’t move.