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)
The painful pulsing at the center of my chest starts up again, an insistent, addictive throb.
I lay my pretty pet out on my bed and tuck her body close to mine. I’m still mostly dressed while she’s fully naked, but I just need to hold her now. I can worry about mundane things like clothing later.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, stroking her hair back from her sweat-slicked brow.
She’s so still and quiet.
I barely breathe until she slurs, “Wonderful.”
My entire body relaxes, and I marvel at this moment of unknown intimacy. Only a few hours ago, I’d feared that she wouldn’t sign the NDA. Now, Abigail is naked in my bed, and she looks as peaceful as one of the sleeping princesses in her favorite animated musicals.
The last week without her has been deeply unpleasant. I was forcing her to live without me and to reflect on how she’d disappointed me by faking the orgasm.
But I’d tortured myself too.
Never again.
From now on, Abigail will sleep in my bed every night. I won’t tolerate another arrangement.
I’m her Master, and she will learn what it means to be mine.
23
DANE
Abigail’s face is upturned to catch the sun, as though she’s a freshly bloomed flower soaking in the warm rays. In the bright light, her dark freckle stands out in fascinating contrast with her porcelain skin. Her cheek is flushed slightly from the summer heat, but I’m reassured that she’s not getting burned. I helped her put on her sunscreen before we left her place, where we stopped off to pick up her clothes for this outing.
The memory of her soft body beneath my hands is enough to tempt my lust, so I take a breath and do my best to suppress it. We’re on a public beach, and I don’t need an erection right now.
Her outfit is simple and inexpensive, but the style is classic. The bright blue bikini brings out the lovely hue of her eyes, and a pale pink sarong is wrapped loosely around her hips.
Abigail clearly has good taste, even if she doesn’t have much money.
Very soon, I’ll be able to dress her up in whatever pleases me most. I anticipate some defiance when it comes to me spending money on her, but I already have a plan to subdue her.
She signed herself over to me. She belongs to me.
I don’t want to change her—I covet everything that she is—but she will obey.
“What are you thinking about?” That clear, open gaze is fixed on me again, but her lips are curved in a small smile rather than a concerned frown.
She isn’t scared of the darkness that lurks in me. When we were together last night, I allowed my civilized mask to fall away entirely, and she didn’t run screaming; she came so hard that she passed out for twelve hours.
“I’m thinking how lucky I am to have you as my pretty pet.” I don’t bother to hide the wolfish edge to my grin.
I never realized how heavy my mask is until I allowed it to drop in her presence. I feel free in a way I’ve never experienced before, and it’s all because of her.
Her cheeks flush a brighter shade of pink, and she quickly glances around to check if anyone overheard.
Even my chuckle comes with shocking ease—a sound of natural pleasure rather than a carefully constructed social response to appear charming. Normal.
“No one heard me,” I reassure her.
The beach is crowded today, but everyone is too concerned with their own lives to listen in on our quiet conversation. The crashing waves and cawing gulls overhead provide a backdrop to the buzz of dozens of conversations. It’s more than enough to grant us privacy, even if we are surrounded by people.
“And you were right,” I drawl. “Pet is a Yorkshire endearment.”
I pause, relishing the soft downturn of her lips and the small furrow in her brow. For a moment, she’s disappointed. She wants our game to be real. She wants her new title to be more than a casual endearment.
Another low laugh rumbles from me. “But don’t worry. We both know what it really means: you’re mine.”
Her breath catches, and her pupils dilate. Then she huffs and lightly slaps my chest.
“Don’t mess with me like that,” she admonishes, but her voice holds a sultry edge. She’s turned on by my possessiveness.
My grin sharpens, and I grasp her hand, holding it so that her palm is pressed directly over the center of my chest. There’s that steady thrum again, the beat slightly elevated.
“You love it when I toy with you.”
She scoffs and tosses her hair, but she doesn’t try to pull away.
“You can’t hide from me,” I taunt. “Complete honesty, remember? Unless you already want another punishment.”
Her blush is delicious. She’s wearing the sarong to cover the beautiful marks left by my cane. I caught her admiring them in the mirror this morning.