Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 88115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Nick tilts his head to the side as he mimics my narrowed eyes. He just stands there, studying me as if I’m a puzzle piece. He then crosses his arms, bringing one hand to his face, stroking the sides of his jawline with his hand.
“You know…it’s really not nice, Princess, to not acknowledge me properly after I’ve introduced myself.” He pauses for me to catch up to the fact he knows my nickname. My heart stops beating and I feel frozen. “I do expect a little gratitude, since I’ve taken good care of you and have given you such elaborate accommodations. I believe a simple ‘thank you’ should be in order, as well.”
His words are laced with slight displeasure, and it puts my senses on high alert. Shrinking back under the safety of my covers a little more, I bring my legs up to my chest and find myself clutching the sheet underneath me in a death grip. I don’t have it in me to thank him for ripping me from my home, my only family.
With my lack of response, Nick decides to gracefully meander his way to the other side of the bed, like a lion stalking its prey. His movements portray a self-assured and confident man who is comfortable in his own skin. He stops right beside me and leans over my trembling form, studying me with his rich, caramel eyes. I swallow hard; his cologne assaults my senses. This close, I can see the lights above catching sun-streaked highlights in his dark-brown hair. Oh, yes, he’s definitely a handsome man; he even looks freshly-shaven, but my body is screaming at me to run. My heart rate picks up as his eyes narrow on mine.
He reaches out with the back of his knuckles and begins to trace over the curve of my jaw, which serves to send shivers down my spine. I sit there mute and frozen before him. I think the lion is toying with its prey, batting it back and forth; he’s the cat, and I’m the injured mouse.
“What’s the matter, Princess? You don’t seem as rambunctious as you did last night. Surely you haven’t given up the will to fight. I live for girls who misbehave. I love the naughty ones.” He leans in farther, bringing his lips only inches from mine. He unleashes a wild Cheshire grin and shifts his gaze across the room to indicate what might be behind Curtain Number One. “I would love nothing more than to see you display an act of defiance,” he whispers over my lips seductively. “Do you like to be punished for being a bad girl, Princess?” A wildfire of goose bumps erupts out over my skin, and I’m so damn scared I can’t see straight. Oh, hell, he’s into some kinky shit, I groan to myself. “Do you have any idea what that does for a man like me?” he asks.
He eyes me with pure, unadulterated lust, leaving no question about his unabashed fetish. Now that the cat is out of the bag, he gets even bolder. His fingers quit grazing over the side of my face to tangle his fingers into my hair, caressing the back of my neck.
He crosses the line of my personal space, leaning in to brush his lips lightly over mine. He half-whispers, half-growls over my closed lips. “Does that thought turn you on? I’m getting hard just thinking about my handprint on your bare ass as your pussy is helplessly spread wide open while you’re chained to my saltire.” He pauses, making sure his words are sinking in, and I find I can’t breathe. “I’m imagining your sexy body bound in restraints, writhing with wanton desperation, screaming out my name for a release you have yet to comprehend.” He slips his tongue out, grazing lazily over the seam of my lips. “I get off on that shit, Princess. I expect by the time Travis has completed his training with you, you’ll get off on it, too…literally.”
My stomach rolls with a sick queasiness, and I close my eyes tightly, wishing him to go away. I mash my lips together in an attempt to keep him out and my churning vomit in. I’m sure this is an act of defiance in his book. I wish I could just make myself puke on command, letting it rip all over him, but I have a true aversion to vomiting and would just as soon rip my fingernails out rather than toss my cookies. But now? Right now, I would love nothing more than to go all Exorcist on him; I’m sure it would deflate that hard-on he was just talking about and work wonders to get him away from me.
I move my lips away from his, shrinking back into the headboard to ask the key question everyone wants to ask in this situation. “What do you want from me?” My whisper sounds shaky and fragmented.