Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
In my mouth. I could suck the whole of those little handfuls between my teeth until she mewls for me. Fuck. I wonder what she tastes like and if she’d scream as she falls apart or whimper, begging me to stop. The image sends me straight over the edge, as does the sharp bite of pain in my palm, and sticky spurts of cum splash against the washcloth.
So much for not thinking about her.
I mop up the blood as well and toss the mess on the floor, clean the knife, and bend down to slip it into the minimal sheath around my ankle. I need to consider getting laid more, especially if I’m going to force myself to be in her presence.
When I open the closet door, I find her hovering just outside the bathroom, her face a flurry of apprehension. However, as I drink in the sight of her, I wonder if I made a mistake. The dress hugs her body tightly, giving her slight, muscular form more curves. I’ve noticed her running on the property early in the morning or late in the evening…that must be where she gets her spare, defined shape that’s nonetheless feminine as fuck. My mouth goes dry at the shadowy hint of cleavage bared by the dip of the dress.
Shit. I want people to notice her, but I don't want to have to fight anyone off either.
She raises her eyes slowly to mine, and if she knows what I'd been doing in the closet she doesn't indicate it.
I pull a tie off the bed, loop it up, and then shrug on my jacket. Once I fix my cuffs, I point at the shoes on the bench at the end of the bed. “Put those on.”
She rushes to the bench and quickly slips on the tall, strappy heels. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to walk well in these.”
I pretend to ignore how sexy her legs look and then shake away the thoughts of her bare skin again. “Don't worry about it. If all goes well, you'll be sitting or kneeling most of the night.”
A line creases the center of her forehead, and she gulps loud enough for me to hear but thankfully, she might be learning after all, because she doesn’t argue or question me.
It only takes a few minutes to get down to the car, which is waiting for us since I already had the time set for pickup. I help Elyse into the car and then take the seat next to her. She’s quiet, almost too quiet, on the drive, but thankfully traffic is light. Even so, I keep checking my watch. I wanted to be there over a half an hour ago to find the perfect spot to approach Mr. Mondrake Sidorov. Everything needs to be perfect. This might be the only chance I get to fix this, to rewind things enough so I can still break away from this life, from this world.
If the past few months have taught me anything, it’s that I have the mind for it—the temperament, I guess—but I don’t want it. Tanya ruined my desire to take my rightful position within the company. I don’t care about the power or the money, the driving forces of most of this world. I don’t give a shit about anything or anyone except Bel and my freedom.
Nothing else...I glance over at Elyse, who stares out the window into the city, her red-painted mouth slack as she takes in London for the first time. I can’t imagine what’s going through her head right now. I suppose if I was halfway human, I’d feel guilty for dragging her all the way here for a flesh market instead of actual sightseeing. Good thing I’m not.
But we packed enough for a week, just in case. Maybe I can take her to a few touristy places. The Tower of London. Buckingham Palace. Big Ben. One of those red phone booth things.
We pull up to an old warehouse, derelict and seedy-looking, but the streets outside boast millions of dollars in vehicles, all being parked and seen to by the sprinting valet drivers who linger near the huge industrial double doors. The car rolls to a stop, and I exhale slowly, preparing to slip into that dark place in my mind.
The door to the vehicle opens, and we’re greeted by a smiling valet. I step out of the car and offer my hand to Ely, who takes it automatically. Once she’s on her feet, I interlock our arms; it’s more of a cover than concern, as I don’t want her to topple off her heels before we even get in the door.
Men like the ones who frequent Pound of Flesh don’t like their property damaged.
At the door, a willowy, blond young man extends a tablet, and I pull out my phone and hold up the QR code I was sent as an invitation. He scans the code, the doors open automatically, and I lead Elyse inside.