Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
I open my mouth to protest, to try to salvage this, but he speaks before I can find the desperate words to keep him close.
“You chose the dark god, Abigail.” He repeats the secret he plucked from my soul when we talked about The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue.
My heart shreds, pain lancing deep in my chest.
He knows.
And I can’t bring myself to lie to him again.
Shame presses down on my shoulders, and my head dips in defeat. I drop my eyes to the cream rug, unable to bear the censure that I’ll see in his handsome face.
Two fingers touch my chin, and my ravaged heart gives a weak flutter as he lifts my gaze back to him.
His eyes blaze with green fire: desire, not disgust. “I choose the dark god too.”
Hope buds in my chest, wrapping my aching heart in tentative warmth.
“What are you saying?”
“I want you, Abigail. I want all that you are, and that includes the dark parts of your heart. Because they match my own perfectly.”
My lower lip trembles as my hope surges through me. “I didn’t think you’d understand,” I confess. “You’re a good man. You’ve proven that you want to protect me.”
He cups my cheek, grounding me to him. “I will always protect you. And I will never violate your trust. But I suspect that I have your consent to indulge in my darker games.”
Desire shudders through me, strong enough to make my fingers tremble.
He caresses my shaking hand. “Don’t be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” I promise. “I’m scared you’ll leave if you find out what I’m really like. I don’t want to lose you.”
“You have me, Abigail. I’m not going anywhere.”
My tongue darts out to wet my suddenly dry lips. “I’ve never talked to anyone about this. I don’t think I know how.”
His thumb traces the shape of my mouth, and my sensitive lips tingle at the tender contact.
“This is new territory for me too,” he admits. “I’m skilled at what I do, but I’ve never kept a submissive of my own before.”
My pulse quickens. I’ve spent enough time reading erotica that I’m familiar with BDSM, even if my own fantasies have always blurred the lines of consent.
“Do you understand what I’m talking about?” he asks, his eyes searching mine.
I swallow hard and nod.
His jaw tightens. “Have you engaged in BDSM before?”
Is he...jealous?
My chest heats with feminine gratification, and my nerves finally start to settle. Dane truly does want me as fiercely as I want him. The dangerous flash over his verdant eyes is pure possessiveness, and my core pulses in response.
“No,” I reply. “But I’ve read about it.”
The tension eases from his powerful frame, and he traces my cheekbone. I lean into his touch, proving my trust in him with my body language. He needs reassurance, too, no matter how strong he is. He’s making himself vulnerable, and I’m drawn to support him.
“You’re safe with me too,” I promise. “You can be yourself with me.”
He features sharpen with unmistakable hunger, and for a moment, I think he’s going to crush his lips to mine in a savage kiss.
Instead, his hand drops from my face so that he can retrieve the leather folder from the coffee table. Cold air rushes over my heated cheek, and I quickly breathe through the knifing sense of loss at his withdrawal.
“I’m not going to change my mind,” I reassure him. “I won’t tell anyone your secrets.”
“Yes, you signed the NDA, even if you didn’t bother to read the ramifications.” He shoots me a wicked smirk that makes my heart skip a beat. “You’re mine now.”
He flips the page over and sets the open folder on my lap.
“I have a different contract for you now, pet.”
Desire shudders down my spine, quivering all the way to my core.
I think I’d like to have you as my needy pet. GentAnon’s dirty message plays through my mind, but I quickly dismiss it. This is Dane. He’s real and warm and solid, not an anonymous, faceless man on the internet.
“Is that a Yorkshire endearment? It’s sweet.” I can’t keep the breathiness from my voice when I try for an offhand tone.
His low chuckle rumbles deep inside me. “You can’t hide from me, Abigail. You’re pressing your soft thighs together to suppress your lust. I see you. I see everything. You want to be my pretty pet.” He taps the folder, an authoritative gesture that has me complying without thinking. “Read it.”
Unlike the NDA, this contract has been written in slanted cursive rather than neatly typed. I know it’s Dane’s handwriting without having to ask. It’s every bit as elegant as he is. The bold strokes of black ink indicate a fountain pen, and I can easily picture his long fingers deftly holding it as he wrote this illicit contract.
By signing below, my pet, Abigail Foster, gives herself to me, Dane Graham. She will abide by my rules and obey my commands. She will at all times endeavor to please me. Nothing is more important to her than my pleasure.