Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 84194 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84194 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
I slapped him with a swift right palm, then drove my knee as high as I could against his balls.
He stumbled backward, nursing the bright red handprint on his cheek, luckily avoiding my knee to his testicles. “Fuck, you’re going to pay for that.”
For a moment, my resolve faded.
His voice had the same gravel and velvet. His jaw had the same twitch of fury. His eyes danced from turquoise to navy to every colour in the ocean. Even his hair fell the same way over his forehead, complete with lightened tips, laughing in the face of dark ebony.
His height was right.
His smell was right.
His touch and taste and mannerisms were right.
So…why did I doubt?
Why pin my refusal on the flimsy idea that just because his touch didn’t affect my soul that he was an imposter? Why did I think I could sense a lie when every sense had been hampered by Sully’s technology?
What is going on?
I paused too long.
He scooped me into his control, backing me across the barn with a furious scowl. “Let’s see if you have anything on under that dress, shall we?”
I gasped as he shoved me against the wall.
The barn shuddered from my impact, releasing dust from wooden planks and cobwebs to string and lace from the ceiling down into my hair.
His temper was right.
His breathing was right.
His fury as he hoisted up my skirt and found I wasn’t wearing underwear was right.
My head fell back, bashing against the wall as he shoved two fingers inside me.
His touch was right.
His groan was right.
His thumb against my clit and the feathering of his fingers inside me was all right.
Yet the more he touched me, the less I desired him.
Had I cursed myself when I promised he’d become invisible to me? Had I truly broken that all-consuming, heart-knotting bond we’d shared?
“Stop.” I pushed at his chest, unable to get proper purchase as his body crushed mine. His boot kicked my lace-ups, spreading my legs.
He fingered me roughly.
He took me in ways he’d already taken, but unlike those previous times when I’d spread on my own accord, when I’d begged for more, when I’d basked in that damn glow, ember, and pin-wheeling firework from his touch…now, I turned frigid.
I tried to cross my legs. I did my best to grab his wrist and stop his pumping fingers. “You’re not him. You’re not him!”
Terror finally broke through my confusion, tearing apart what I’d been too terrified to admit.
Sully had locked me in Euphoria.
He’d given me to a guest.
A guest wearing his skin.
The worst deception I could imagine.
Just like the caveman hid Sully behind huge physique, scars, and growls, this guest had the perfect disguise to destroy me.
That was why he hadn’t given me elixir.
That was why he didn’t use my lust against me.
He thought I wouldn’t need it.
That he was my elixir.
That I would buy into the illusion with every idiotic bone in my body and be so damn grateful that he’d finally trusted me. That he’d given me his affection in acknowledgment of his faith and forgiveness.
It’s all bullshit.
He’d just given me a taste of his world.
He’d taken my trust and shat all over it.
Tears spilled from my eyes as I went wild. I scratched his face. I kicked his legs. I wriggled and squirmed.
I screamed.
I screamed and screamed.
I screamed for this illusion to stop. For this guest to disappear. For this whole screwed up punishment to be over.
“Get your fucking fingers out of me, you damn bastard!” I tore at his hair, ripping at the strands I’d always found so sexy on Sully Sinclair. I snarled as he tried to kiss me. I choked as his free hand latched tight around my throat.
“Stop fucking moving.” His fingers withdrew from me, fumbling for his belt. “You want to scream? You can scream while I drive my cock deep inside you.”
No!
This isn’t happening.
No!
At no point in my captivity had I ever felt so petrified. Never had I been this close to feeling like what a true slave would feel.
I had no choice.
I had no power to stop him.
I was a goddess, bought and paid for, a vessel for this guest’s feral fantasy.
I moaned in absolute horror as the zipper of his jeans sounded, followed by his grunt as he inched the denim off his hips.
No.
Please, no.
Stop.
Stop.
“Stop!”
He pressed against me. He bent his knees. He angled to thrust—
“She said stop.”
The man wearing Sully’s body froze. Together, our heads whipped to the left where a stable hand appeared from the tack room. Lean and lanky, he could be a jockey instead of a groom holding a pitchfork for mucking out soiled hay.
“How about you stay out of this.” Sully-not-Sully growled.
I shivered at how real his voice sounded, and, once again, a tiny piece of me wondered if I’d gotten it wrong.
How could I base my convictions on just a feeling? A profoundly powerful feeling…but still just a feeling.