Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 168587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 843(@200wpm)___ 674(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 168587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 843(@200wpm)___ 674(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
Tyson steps back, grabs my hand, and I look over my shoulder to see the body already gone. Beau is on his hands and knees, cleaning up the blood that remains with towels and a bucket of water.
We get into the elevator and ride it up to the fourth floor in silence and step off. We enter the apartment, and he pulls me through the master bedroom and into the bathroom. “Get undressed. We’re showering and going to bed.” He lets go of my hand, and I come to a stop, watching him undo his blood-covered button-up and then shrug it off his shoulders. He removes his gun from the back of his slacks, pulls back the slide, and removes the magazine. He places them all on the countertop by his sink.
If I knew how to use a gun, I’d take the opportunity to shoot him but, I know I’d fail or end up shooting myself. Then he toes off his shoes and removes his socks. Last, he undoes his belt before unbuttoning his slacks, shoving them down his legs along with his boxer briefs.
This is the first time I’m actually paying attention to his naked body. Last time we showered, I was too embarrassed to even look at him. And thankfully, he demanded I turn around. When I watched him with my sister, I never paid much attention to it. But now I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to.
He’s got scars on his back, above his right shoulder blade. Looks like a small circle. Bullet wound, maybe? I hate that I want to ask what it’s from. Another on his arm, and a third scar down on his left lower back. Possibly a stab wound?
My eyes drop to his ass and my breathing picks up at how chiseled it is. His muscular thighs flex when he opens the glass door and steps into the shower, turning it on.
I sigh, removing my clothes, knowing I’m covered in blood and alcohol and need to clean off before I go to bed. I’m exhausted. It’s been a long day, and I never stay up this late.
Getting naked, I step inside and pause for a second, remembering he’s got a fucking shock collar around my neck. I’m afraid to get it wet, but then I remember I already took a shower with it on before I even knew what it was. I highly doubt he’d kill me this soon. He married me for a reason. Whatever it is, I’m sure he’s playing the long game here.
He turns to face me, and I step back until I’m up against the cold tile wall. He cages me in, a smile tugging at his lips. “What’s wrong, little darling?”
I snort. Way too many things to answer that question.
“Afraid of me?”
Squaring my shoulders, I say, “If you think I’m going to bow down to you because you’re my husband, you’re wrong.”
He reaches out, hands on either side of my face, tilting my head back so I have to look up at him as he presses his slick and firm body into mine. My hands come up instinctively to grip his wrists, trying to pull them free of my face, but it doesn’t work.
I expect him to choke me, slap me, grip my hair, yank me under the sprayer and drown me. Instead, he lowers his lips to mine and kisses me. A slow and soft sensual kiss that makes my heart race with unease while my body melts for him.
My eyes fall closed as a tingling sensation slowly runs up my spine, making me shiver. I moan into his mouth, my body going soft and pushing into his. My arms drop from his wrists to wrap around his waist, my fingers digging into his wet skin.
It’s in this moment I realize just how fucked I am. I’ve never considered myself to be fragile. But he’s taking my body to places it’s never been before. He’s forcing it to experience things it didn’t know existed. And I can admit that I don’t know how to fight that.
He pulls away, my lips stay parted, gasping in a shaky breath, and my heavy eyes open. His thumb runs along my upper lip before tracing the bottom. “I can’t wait to see you on your knees, crying for me while you choke on my cock.”
My thighs clench on their own at his words, reminding me how sore my pussy is. They’re just fucking words and I’m already going weak. They’re not even endearing, they’re vulgar and disgusting, yet my body likes the way they sound.
He pulls back just enough to separate our bodies, and my eyes drop down his chiseled abs to his deep V and I see his dick. He’s as hard as my pussy is wet. Or that could be his cum from when he fucked me before my shift.