Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
His response comes swiftly and sounds so fucking realistic it makes my skin flush. Not just my face but down my chest, causing those telltale splotches.
“And why would I do that?”
His deep voice makes me shiver, and I tug hard at my wrists again. The huge muscle of his bicep doesn’t even flex, doesn’t even have to add any extra strength to keep me immobile, and it should be shameful realizing that it sends an obscene amount of wetness downward to coat my pussy. “He… he’ll come after you. He’ll kill you if you hurt me,” I reply, and his dark chuckle makes the hair on my arms stand up.
“You really think I’m afraid of him?” he asks, making my breath stop in my throat when I see what he pulls out of his pocket with the hand not gripping my wrists.
I don’t move, can’t, as he flicks open the pocketknife, holding it up to let me watch the lone streetlight glint off its short blade. “I’ve got three inches in height and thirty pounds on him at least.”
My automatic reaction is to taunt him, to spit something back like “Too bad for you those three inches are in height. You could’ve used them to catch up with his cock,” but I’m frozen in place as he puts the blade to my skin. He scratches the knife right down the center of my chest, and I don’t even breathe, scared to death I’ll make him slice into me, and it would be my own damn fault. I just hope the movement of my pounding heart doesn’t make that happen against my will.
So I stay quiet and still, allowing myself a moment to feel that fear, to imagine it’s an essential oil coming out of diffuser I can inhale. I see him slide the knife between my breasts, and I grit my teeth when he starts to use the blade to slowly pull the tiny piece of lace between the cups up and away from my body. He does it carefully, bending his head lower, making a show of peeking beneath the bra while I can do nothing to hide myself. I’m genuinely embarrassed. This feeling of discomfort is as real as it would be with a vetted stranger playing this part… as it would be if it were truly a bad, bad man stealing his first glimpse of my sensitive flesh. And heightening that feeling, he looks deep into my eyes as he pries his stare off my hardened nipples, his lips tilting up in an almost evil smile as he raises the blade just a fraction of an inch higher…
And the lace splits, the cups falling open with a pop that makes me jerk instinctively, leaving me fully exposed.
I whimper as an involuntary shudder takes over my entire body.
“From your silence, I take it you’re smart enough to know I’m right,” my captor says, folding his pocketknife and putting it back in his pocket.
He then uses that hand to reach between our bodies, slowly—oh so slowly—skimming it down my front, over my mound without a moment’s hesitation, like a real captor would. I start to pant at the thought.
No, a real captor wouldn’t hesitate to touch what doesn’t belong to him.
A friend would surely waver.
A friend’s touch would not be so confident, so sure, that it would slide right along forbidden places, slowly… purposefully… taking in the feel of those off-limits dips, hills, and valleys along their path.
And then he reaches my bare knees that are locked together between his. Easy for him, with the giant wingspan of his, still keeping my arms locked above my head, my breasts now jutting toward the sky as my back bows, trying to leverage so I can keep my legs closed.
A delicious sense of dread washes over me as he spreads his knees farther apart, knowing exactly what must be coming. And I’m right. He tries to separate my thighs with that huge hand of his, but I keep them tightly closed with all my strength.
Is this when he’ll tap out? Is this when he’ll see me struggling, really using all my strength to put up a fight, and give up? Most likely. I know him. He won’t be able to stand the idea of scaring me.
When he speaks, his voice is rougher than I’ve ever heard it.
“Mmm… fuck yeah, Savvy girl. Fight me. Make me work for that little cunt.”
That makes me pause, and my brows furrow as I try to continue imagining the man holding me down as a stranger, even when he just called me by the nickname only two men in this entire world have ever been allowed to use.
I shake off the thought, turning my attention back to keeping my legs closed, when I know the effort is futile. I’ve never been one to work out, especially not cardio, and most cardio comes from exercises that would also improve one’s leg strength. My naturally slim frame will be my ultimate downfall, having never felt the need to work off extra weight.