Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Even then, I hadn’t wanted my first time to be with a man my father sold me to in a business deal.
All I’d wanted was for my first time to be with a man who wanted me, just me, not my last name or connections. I guessed I’d gotten half of what I was after.
Marksen had no use for my connections, and he had a fortune of his own. No, he made love to me because … wait. He hadn’t made love to me.
There was a distinction. Getting it confused in my head would be a mistake that would lead to heartbreak or worse. Making love was supposed to be sweet, loving, and gentle. It was an intimate act of devotion and an expression of love.
What Marksen and I did in the shower wasn’t about love.
He had fucked me.
Worse… it hadn’t even been about carnal need.
He wasn’t fucking me to chase a high, or because he liked me and wanted us to feel good together. No, he fucked me because he wanted to hurt my brother. He took my virginity to hurt Luc.
He had fucked me to fuck my family.
I had never felt so alone in my life.
Yanking on a corner of the coverlet, I curled up on the top of the bed, pulled my knees to my chest, and cried.
Just for a moment.
This would all be over soon, and I would work through it with my therapist and come to terms with it.
And when that didn’t work, I would drink my weight in whiskey and watch classic romantic movies, like Casablanca, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, and 10 Things I Hate About You.
I would wallow, knowing as soon as the hangover was gone, this pain in my chest would be a memory. It was what I did every time I had a setback I couldn’t overcome. There was no reason for this experience to be any different.
I dried my eyes and straightened my back just in time for Marksen to walk back into the room, the white fluffy towel still around his hips showing off an impressive, lean six-pack and Adonis belt. Despite everything, I wanted to stroke those incredibly sexy lines going from his hips to his groin.
He wasn’t like the men I saw every day, with perfectly even muscles that were sculpted by plastic surgeons and expensive trainers, honed by makeup artists using bronzer and highlighter to define and chisel, then perfected by airbrushing and photoshop.
No, Marksen’s muscles were hard and lean, and all him.
He probably worked out with a trainer in a boxing ring. The muscles were not the goal but a benefit; his objective was power and strength. The more I watched him, the more differences I saw between him and the other men that I interacted with.
The models I saw almost daily were fashion models. They had thinner, almost delicate frames, whereas Marksen had wide shoulders that tapered down to a narrower waist and hips. His abs weren’t perfectly symmetrical. Instead, the right side was a little higher than the left. He didn’t carry himself with the same swan-like grace they did either.
His moves were graceful in the same way a jungle cat’s were. They were confident and well-practiced. His body was just as agile but also so much stronger. There was even a dark dusting of hair on his chest and stomach that led down below the towel.
That illicit hunger inside of me started to build again as I watched him move around the room.
The businessmen I saw weren’t slim and delicate like the models, but they weren’t this either.
Marksen was the man they tried to be.
If the business analysts I met were men, then the models were only boys, and Marksen was a god.
“Stop staring at me and lay back, Olivia,” he said, pulling me from my gawking.
“Marksen, please, I can’t. I’m too sore … for you to … take advantage again.”
His gaze narrowed. “Don’t play the martyr, Olivia. It doesn’t suit you,” he admonished, pricking my pride.
He grabbed my ankles, spreading them apart to make room for him to place a knee between my legs.
“Marksen, don’t,” I begged as I tried to push at his chest. I really couldn’t take him again.
I was going to be sore enough in the morning.
He ignored my pleas. But instead of climbing on top of me, he hooked my thighs over his shoulders and leaned down, kissing a line from my knee up my inner thigh. Then he did the same to the other leg. It felt good, but it didn’t prepare me for how good it was going to feel when he put his mouth on my core.
I thought men didn’t like to do this or avoided it or … my thoughts cut out when he licked between my pussy lips, and the most amazing feeling spread over my body.