Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
I simply need to brand her so deeply that she will never be able to leave my side.
My nostrils flare at the carnal urges and thoughts running rampant in my mind.
I’ve never wanted something so badly, yet for this woman…
“Only payment for the stock will be required?” she questions, and fuck me, she’s purposely taking her sweet time with that zipper.
“Yes,” I grit out, then swallow a dry lump in my throat. Fuck, I need to taste her.
“And have you paid for sex before?” she asks, and now I know she’s outright teasing me, enjoying this power she has over me. She shifts her dress ever so slowly, letting it rest on her hips, revealing a lacy black bra. Her tits are so perfect, and it takes all my willpower to raise my eyes to hers. Those fucking eyes that flash wild sex through thick eyelashes.
“No, and I’m not now either.”
Anya is used to men coming to her. This verbal warfare is just part of her temptation. Though I want every part of her, to go to her and take, I know I have to treat Anya differently from any other woman I’ve had before.
“But you are. You’re paying a lot of money to fuck me,” she says, looking almost confused. She’s doll-like with those porcelain features. Bait to the little devil that lies within me.
“Taste, then fuck,” I correct as I move to the edge of the bed and sit. My cock pressing against my trousers is excruciating as I watch her. “Are you telling me, Anya, that you’ve never thought of me fucking you?”
“No,” she says flatly, and a part of me considers she might be telling the truth. Who’s to know since she’s lived a life of not giving anything away. But that’s all about to change tonight. “I don’t fuck men for the enjoyment. I make them do whatever I want. I like the power.”
“Yes, your men.” I nod to her dress, which is still resting on her hips. I didn’t expect her to stall so much, but I also realize this is her game, her power struggle because I’m not falling to my knees for her like everyone else she’s fucked. Fuck, do I want to, though. “Tell me, do you touch your men?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she sasses as she pushes her dress to the floor and turns around in a circle, showing me the goods. My god. As expected, Anya doesn’t wear underwear. And that tattoo of hers is unexpected. But there are many mysteries to unfold tonight.
“I would, actually. Who do you fuck?” I say, my voice all gravel and thirst now. Fuck, if I believed in curses, I’d claim her as a witch.
“Myself.” She smiles sweetly. “Now, do you plan to drop your pants or continue small talk?” she asks. I can’t help the arrogant smile that spreads over my lips. Because I still refuse to give in to Anya like she expects. I raise my hand and indicate for her to come closer. This little she-devil will learn a lesson tonight. I’m not a man she will boss around. Ever.
Her nose raises higher, but she does as she’s told and steps between my legs. I reach for her arm, and I can see the trail of goose bumps that follow. Smooth. Delicate. Soft. Still a woman despite that hard exterior of hers. My hand lands on her stomach and partially on the detailed tattoo.
“Medusa?” I ask, looking at the head and snake wrapped around her side.
“She’s a warrior,” she says, dignified. And so is she.
“Interesting,” I reply as I graze my fingertips along her pubic bone and lower. I watch her, her unyielding expression. The only thing that gives her away is the hooded gaze. The expectation and curiosity. “Tell me, Anya.”
“Yes, Lake,” she barks back, and my lip twitches at her use of the wrong name. Yet again. She’s nowhere near to submitting to me. But I’ll make her.
“Do you think I can make you mine?”
The moment I say it, her back straightens, and I can see, as well as feel, her body go rigid.
“No,” she says without hesitation.
I trail my finger lower toward her clit. And it takes all of my restraint not to take my gaze from hers and bury myself within her. This is forcing more patience on my part than I’ve ever held with a woman before. But it’s a lesson to be learned.
Her body naturally leans into me as I slide my finger between her folds. Whether she’ll admit it or not, she wants this just as badly as I do.
“Really?” I ask. This will become awfully painful for her if her answer doesn’t change.
“No, I will never be yours,” she defiantly says, but her breath is clipped. Anticipation for my finger that’s hovering at her entrance.