Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Maybe this isn’t about me at all. Maybe he just likes giving head. Or he just wants to end this and has decided his mouth is the quickest solution.
Except, once again, my body doesn’t give a fuck if this is all in my head or actually happening. I cum with a strangled scream that might be his name.
Thane presses his forehead to my stomach and gives me three more long strokes with his fingers. My orgasm scrambles my thoughts, but I still hear him say, “This is your new home now, Catalina.”
Then he’s gone, disappearing beneath the water with barely a ripple.
I press a shaking hand to my eyes. “Thane, king of krakens and mixed messages.” That’s twice now that he’s delivered a soul-breaking orgasm and then fled the area. I don’t know if it’s shame or guilt or some misguided honor kicking in, but fuck, it stings.
I want to see the orgasms as care. Good god, I want to see them as proof that he’s not as remote as he’s acted since I met him. Proof that if I just try harder, he’ll warm to me. It’s a lie. I’ve gone down this road before. I’ve even attended enough therapy to know why I do it.
Poor Catalina, her mommy was neglectful to the point of abuse, now she seeks out every single unattainable partner she can find, attempting to prove she’s worthy of love.
Anger and shame are a heady mixture, and they get me off my back and onto my feet. A quick look around the space shows I’m in a cavern that’s half water and half stone. The walls curve up into darkness, the ceiling so high, I can’t make it out. Panic has just started to lick its way up my throat when I see the dark curving staircase. It’s been carved right into the wall, and there’s no railing, but it’s wide enough that I should be able to climb safely.
Fool that I am, I glance back at the dark pool of water. It’s completely still, not a single ripple to suggest Thane has done anything but leave the premises as quickly as possible.
“A totally normal thing to do after you finger a lady and then suck on her clit until she cums screaming your name.”
No one answers. Why would they? I’m entirely alone.
The thought makes me break out in goose bumps. “No. Not alone. I don’t know that.” Thane wouldn’t do that to me. He may be cold, but he hasn’t shown any evidence of being cruel. Surely he’s not going to start now?
There’s only one way to find out.
It takes a very long time to reach the top of the stairs. I have to take three breaks, sinking onto the stone and rubbing my shaking thighs each time. There isn’t a single doorway or exit the entire time, not until I get to the very top. When I see the heavy wooden door, I almost convince myself I’m imagining it—that this staircase never ends and I’m in some hellish purgatory that will have me climbing forever as payment for some imagined sin.
Well, no need to imagine it. I’ve sinned plenty, at least according to the church people who have tried to save my soul periodically throughout my life. Too bad I’m not looking to be saved.
Liar.
I ignore the nasty little voice in the back of my mind and shove open the door. Or I try. It’s even heavier than it looks, and it’s swollen—likely from the salt air—into the doorframe. I have to shove my shoulder against the wood to even get it to budge. By the time it swings reluctantly open, I’m sweating and cursing Thane’s name.
The other place wasn’t so bad. Yes, the people avoided me, and there was that unfortunate incident with Henryk in the kitchen where he threatened to murder me, but at least I was dry and warm and not having to muscle my way through doors and into . . .
I look around. “Thane, I’m starting to think you hate me.”
The halls and staircase seem to be carved from the same kind of stone, and I might find it beautiful if it wasn’t so damp. I pad on bare feet across a floor that I’m pretty sure is dry but feels vaguely wet.
Up until this point, my outrage and adrenaline were getting me through, but it’s as if reaching this hallway has the reality of this situation hitting me all at once. I’m just as damp as this hallway, my torn dress clinging to my skin and not covering the essentials. My hair is still wet and hanging down my back, my body hurts, and I’m hungry.
I search through the rooms I find, but they’re all unoccupied. More than unoccupied. They give the feeling of being abandoned entirely. Just like me. With each room that I find empty of even furniture, the panicked feeling inside me grows. “Don’t do this to me, Thane.”