Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
“You’re an awful liar, Lenochka.”
“I’m not lying.”
“That’s what all liars say.”
I stare at him over Jeremy’s head, and he stares right back, an easy, almost outgoing expression on his face. “How can you tell when someone is lying so easily?”
“So you admit you were lying?”
“No.” I make a face and mouth, “Jeremy,” so he doesn’t label me as a liar in front of him.
Adrian’s lips pull in a small smile. Holy hell. I’m glad he doesn’t smile too often because I’d go into cardiac arrest or something. He seems to be in an awfully good mood right now and I wonder what triggered it. Was it inflicting my punishment in his office or simply being here with me and Jeremy? Knowing his controlling, dominant character, it’s probably the first reason.
He takes a few pieces from Jeremy’s game and assembles them without breaking eye contact with me. “Unless you’re trained to lie, people have tells. The rub of a nose or a nape, fidgeting, or looking in a different direction to conjure a lie. The reason for that is because lying doesn’t com naturally and takes a lot of energy, so most of the oxygen in the blood rushes to the brain, leaving the rest of the limbs either numb or cold. That’s why you’ve been flexing your fingers.”
I clench my fingers into the material of my coat and Adrian stares at me with utter amusement, no doubt finding fun in cornering me.
Jeremy gives me a disapproving glance. “Lying is bad, Mommy.”
“I wasn’t lying, Jer.” I soften my tone even as I glare at Adrian.
“Okay,” he agrees readily like the little angel he is. “Teach Mommy how to do my war zone, Papa.”
“Hmm.” Adrian’s head tilts to the side in my direction. “I think I will.”
I purse my lips at him, but he merely reaches to wrap the scarf around my neck before he gets to work. He literally finishes building the entire war zone in under fifteen minutes.
I try not to be impressed, but I am.
“Yay, Papa!” Jeremy kisses his father on the cheek, joy sparkling in his wide eyes.
Adrian faces me. “I think your mom should show appreciation, too, shouldn’t she, Malysh?”
“Yes, Mommy! Kiss Papa.”
I glare at Adrian for the way he’s manipulating a kid, but I don’t make a problem out of it as I lean in and press my lips to the stubble on his cheek.
For a fraction of a second, it feels normal, like we’re actually a family who are out in the garden, doing family things.
I’m about to pull away when my gaze shifts upward. I don’t know why I look in the direction of the guest house at a moment like this. I don’t know why my eyes immediately go up.
All I know is that I shouldn’t have. I really, really shouldn’t have.
A figure stares at me from the window. Her face is as pale as her nightgown, but her eyes are a raging blue as she stares at me.
My eyes.
The ghost Jeremy mentioned is staring at me and she looks ready to kill me.
21
Winter
“Lift your arms.”
I follow Adrian’s command so he can slide the silky nightgown over my body. It feels soft, soothing, but it’s still too much against my sensitive skin.
We’ve just finished another session of punishment. This time it was three successive orgasms for talking back to him three times today.
The number has been shortening over the past week. Maybe one day, it’ll be zero and I’ll be able to get my reward, but that doesn’t seem like it will happen anytime soon.
It’s been two weeks since I came into Adrian’s house, and he always, without fail, finds something to punish me for. I guess I’m not being careful enough either, but he’s not tolerant at all.
If I say ‘okay,’ it’s one.
If I ask why, it’s two.
If I don’t look at him while he’s fucking me with his fingers or with his mouth, it’s three.
If he calls me Lia and I don’t answer immediately, it’s four.
There’s no winning with him, because he laid out all the circumstances, so they’d work in his favor.
Every evening, after Jeremy goes to sleep, I come to this bedroom with my heart in my throat in anticipation of what he’ll do next. Sometimes, he doesn’t wait until then and calls me to his office so he can extract his punishment. Then he’ll restart the count to make sure his hands are busy during the night.
Hands that are currently buttoning the top of my nightgown. Big veiny hands with long, lean fingers that I couldn’t stop staring at even if I wanted to.
Hands that can bring pleasure or pain—or both—depending on their owner’s mood.
My eyes are droopy and I’m exhausted from the number of orgasms he gave me in one go, but I remain seated in front of the dresser while Adrian is kneeling before me.