Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 59432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
None of my hopes were true, I knew that, but I didn’t care as long as my legs kept pumping, carrying me closer to the salvation of the tree line. I had to get away from him, from the terror, from the flare of unwanted heat he sparked in me.
My lungs began burning, making me painfully aware of my need to stop and take deep gulps of air. I didn’t. I pushed myself harder, ignoring the pain in my side, ignoring everything except the approaching sanctuary. I’d made it more than halfway across the emerald field.
I fell. Hard. Arms had encircled my waist and dragged me down so I was lying on my stomach. The grass had softened the fall, but not much. The air whooshed from my already tortured lungs, and my ribs felt on the verge of cracking apart and spearing the organs inside. The smell of fertile earth and verdant green invaded my nose, but his scent mixed in as well.
He was on my back. He gripped my arm and pulled me over roughly. He straddled me, his thighs against my hips. I couldn’t see his face. The sun was high behind his head, blinding me. I screamed and tried to slap him, scratch him, draw any sort of blood I could. He captured my wrists easily and pinned them over my head. He leaned over me, blocking the sun yet showing me the scorching anger in his eyes. He was fierce, far worse than he had been upstairs.
“I warned you, Stella. I told you.” His breaths were shuddering even as I gasped for air.
He transferred both my wrists to one of his hands and drew back his palm to strike me. I held his gaze. I wanted him to feel it, to know how much I loathed him, to know what I thought of his twisted soul.
His eyes opened a little wider at my stark stare.
“Fuck!” He stayed his hand and, instead, slammed his fist into the ground next to my head. He let out a roar, guttural and full of pent up rage.
He let my hands go and sat back, crushing my thighs. His head was thrown back, as if he were pondering the shape of the lazy white clouds above instead of thinking about how to hurt me. I lay still, once again blinded by the sun.
“You’re killing your father.” He brought his head back down slowly. His face was calm again, as if some switch had flipped.
“N-no.” My breaths were finally evening out, though my head pounded from the adrenaline and lack of food.
“Yes, you are.” He leaned down over me, bringing his face only an inch from mine. His erection was hard against my thigh. “If you had escaped, what do you think I would have done? Nothing?”
“I-I didn’t think—”
“Exactly. That’s your problem.” He drew a hand up and fastened his palm around my throat.
I tried to pry his fingers off, scratching him and pulling. He didn’t move, only squeezed harder the more I fought. It was as if he were pinching my windpipe, stopping even the slightest flow of air. When the edges of my vision started to dim, I relaxed.
“I thought I made it clear upstairs. I guess I didn’t. What do I have to do to get through to you? Hurt you more? Take more?” He ran his free hand down my side, my stomach, and finally to the vee of my thighs.
I whimpered as he rubbed against the seam of my jeans, right over my clit.
“I will, if that’s what you want, if that’s what it takes for you to understand how completely I own you.” He rubbed harder, building a heat inside me. My stomach clenched. I didn’t want his pleasure, not like this, but my body wasn’t discriminating.
“Is that it, Stella?” He eased his mouth closer to mine as his fingers continued to work. He was so close I could feel his warm, minty breath on my lips. “I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you. Before I even planned on making you my Acquisition. What do you taste like? I wonder. I’ve wondered it for quite some time. Would you like me to find out?”
His fingers continued their maddening pace, forcing desire to swell where there should have been none, where there should be terror and anger instead. I couldn’t stop the breathy sound that erupted from my lips.
He laughed, low and husky. “You would like for me to taste you, wouldn’t you?”
My hips rose toward his hand of their own accord, wanting more from him. He froze and blinked, as if realizing what he was doing.
“Shit!” He rose up and fell back as if I’d burned him. He sat in the grass at my feet, looking at me like I was a live grenade.