Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
But I have to shut him up.
My feet slip on the tile as I push myself away, finding a corner to brace my back in. He’s on me immediately, grabbing my wrists as I claw at him, closing in and pinning my legs so I can’t kick. I snarl, teeth bared, and he shoves me flush against the wall, my wrists caught in his grip and secured over my head. He’s taller than me and monstrously strong, using every inch of his body to trap me. Both of my wrists fit into his left hand, leaving his right one free to collar my neck. In the end, I’m imprisoned between him and the shower tile.
I can’t move, but I can glare at him. If looks could kill, he’d be bleeding out. He studies me and smiles, water streaming down his brutally beautiful face. His lips are close to mine. If he tries to kiss me, I’ll bite through his tongue.
“You could’ve killed me,” he purrs. “And you didn’t. You know why?”
I surge against him and use the little space I gain to twist away from him. He slams me front-first against the tile, his dick jabbing my back. His chuckle echoes around the shower.
“You liked me, Lula. You didn’t want me to die.”
“You weren’t worth another bullet.”
He presses into me more, keeping me pinned while he shifts his right hand to get a better grip on my throat. “You hoped I would live. And you knew if I did, I would come for you. A part of you must have wanted it.”
“No.”
“Do not lie to me.” His fingers press in, constricting my airway. I fight but can’t move much.
This is it. He’s going to kill me. He knows just where to squeeze, to choke me, and I’m helpless, dangling in his arms.
“Admit it,” he growls into my ear. “You wanted me.”
“No.”
“You wanted to return to me.”
“No. . .” My voice is growing fainter, my brain screaming for air. I claw at the tile, but I’m getting weaker and weaker. The air is gone from my lungs and, with it, my strength.
“You need to be claimed like this, to be owned.” His voice comes from far away.
I’m dying. He’s killing me. I’m at the end.
“Lula. . .”
I open my mouth and croak with the ghost of my last breath. “Do it.”
“Fuck,” he snarls and releases his grip. Sweet, precious air rushes in, and I rise with it like a freed balloon floating into the sky. I’m weightless as Victor lifts me, hitching me up the wall so he can part my legs and slam his cock into my cunt. It feels so good, so right. I’d never taken a man bare before Victor, and it’s wrong but perfect.
He fucks me higher and higher, and I come with my head somewhere in the stratosphere, my cheek sliding against the tile.
11
Lula
“Lula, stay with me.”
There is no Lula. She’s gone, eaten up by ecstasy. I don’t recognize myself. I barely recognize my own name. There are no boundaries between me and the outside world. Nothing left of my defenses. Victor fucked them away.
A small, primitive part of me recognizes that I’m being dried and carried out of the shower. He fucked me there, choked me, and I welcomed it. I welcomed death.
But he didn’t kill me. He shattered me in pieces, and it’s fine because I’m not myself anymore.
“Speak to me, little one.”
I snort. I’m not that little. I have a slender torso but ample breasts and an even bigger backside. Leah’s muffins go straight to my hips. Only hours of rowing keep them off my thighs.
I must say all this out loud because Victor replies, “Noted.” He sounds amused. “But you are little to me.”
He lays me down, and I sink into the soft, cloud-like surface. He leans over me, a shadowy shape. Victor. The victor in our little game. In our fight to the death.
I should’ve known it would end like this. With him standing over me, a bloodied knife. . .
Something prods my lips. A straw. “Drink, beautiful.”
I do, and when I’m done, I say, “I’m not beautiful.”
He sighs from somewhere overhead. “Must you argue?”
“Yes. I was born to argue. I might as well die doing it.”
I’m rolled and wrapped in something fuzzy and warm. A blanket. There are words for so many things, words I already know, but everything’s floating just out of reach.
“Enough, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart?
“Shhh.” Victor tucks the blanket around me. “It’s time to rest. I pushed you too far.”
Wasn’t that the point?
“If you don’t stop talking, I will gag you.”
I didn’t realize I was still talking. My throat is raw. Victor gets me more water and climbs into bed with me. His arms cradle me, pulling me against the solid wall of his body. I close my eyes and let myself drift. . .