Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
The door closes behind them and my whole body starts to shake. Deep down I’m terrified of what might happen, of his intentions.
“Strip.” Declan’s voice booms through the room. I look up at him in shock wondering if I just heard him right. “Strip!” he repeats impatiently, and I don’t want to push him further than I already have.
Gulping down my fear I push myself up off the floor and into a standing position. With trembling hands, I start to peel off the clothes Declan helped me put on this morning. Casting my eyes down I watch him carefully out of the corner of my eye. His eyes blaze with need as they rake over every inch of bare flesh, and somehow there is still hate within those depths. How can he want me and hate me all at the same time? He might want my body, but he still hates me and him wanting me won’t protect me from him killing me. I have to find a way to show him I’m sorry. I have to find a way to reach him.
“Turn around and bend over,” he orders. Hesitating for only a second, I do as he asks. Twisting around, I face away from him and bend over. I’m completely and utterly exposed to him but more in a way of seeing deep inside me, beneath my skin, and into my soul.
“Reach back and spread those creamy white cheeks for me. Let me see that tight pussy.” His voice is low and raspy, dripping with lust. With shaking hands, I snake around my body and spread myself open for him, knowing that he is going to see the moisture already forming there. Even as nervous as I am, I still want him. I still crave his touch no matter how wrong or fucked up it might be.
The sound of bed sheets ruffling gives away his movements and every muscle in my body tenses. Twisting my neck, I look at him over my shoulder and see he is sitting up on the edge of the bed. He starts to undo his pants and pulls his rock hard cock out. He reaches for me and a moment later his hands are on me, fire and ice fill my veins at once as two thick digits probe my glistening entrance.
“Of course you’re already wet. Such a dirty fucking slut...a beautiful dirty fucking slut,” he murmurs as he pushes those two fingers inside of me. My pussy stretches at the intrusion, a sting of pain follows a second later.
“You might be scared, but even you can’t hide your body’s need for my cock. You can’t wait for me to fuck you, can you?”
Pulling out his fingers leaves me cold and goosebumps erupt over my flesh. His hand leaves my pussy and circles my waist, pulling me backward. The motion causes me to lose my balance and I fall back, right into his lap, my back flush against his chest.
The air stills inside my lungs, and I force myself to breathe. His other hand snakes around the front of my body, trailing over my belly, and up between my breasts. I feel as if I’m in a trance, watching as he touches me with a gentleness that is completely unlike him.
Then, as if he can sense that I’m sinking deeper into his touch, that same hand snaps up to my throat. I gasp as his large hand circles my delicate skin, barely leaving any room for me to breathe. His other hand rests on my stomach and I flinch when I feel something cold touch me. Casting my eyes down I swallow back a scream at the sight of the blade of a knife pressing into my soft flesh. I always thought when he killed me it would be fast, and with a gun, but never with a knife, where he would get the chance to watch me bleed out.
“I’m going to have a scar where I got shot because of you. It’s only fair that I give you a scar in the same spot. Don’t you think?” I can feel every part of him molding against me. Our bodies like two pieces of clay molding together, fusing into one unique piece of art. His scent fills my nostrils, cinnamon, and clove. It humanizes the situation, but nothing about it can calm my erratic heartbeat.
Fear and dread paint me from the inside out. He intends to hurt me. I know it.
“Please, don’t,” I whimper, and I feel his already hard cock twitch while pressing up against my ass cheeks. Is my begging turning him on?
“Tell me to stop, Princess, beg me, and maybe, just maybe I’ll show you the mercy your father never showed our family.”
“Please…please, don’t hurt me,” I beg, my voice giving away that I’m not only scared but also turned on. Is this what he wants? Does he want me to fear him? If so, he is succeeding.