Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
"It’s because I trust myself. All my life, I have believed in myself—had faith in my desires and trusted my instincts. I have pursued them relentlessly and that is why I am where I am today. When you caught my eye in such a spectacular way, I knew there was something different about you.”
“Then you should have expected the slap—”
“Shut the fuck up,” I growl, my hand slipping around the back of her milky neck. I cannot control my fingers, they have taken on a life of their own, they caress her soft skin. I feel my breath catch.
“And now you want to kill me,” she hisses, working up a sneer, and I think I fall in love with her fight right there. She is so flushed with anger, so gorgeous, her eyes burning with pointless defiance.
“Let’s play a game,” I say. “In order to move forward with this conversation you can choose one of two things to do to appease me. It has to be one or the other, or I will end all possibilities for negotiations with you. I’ll sell your father’s miserable debt on and you’ll never hear from me again.”
“I choose not to play this game,” she bites out, her voice sharp. Once again, I am pleased.
“Why the haste, sweetheart?” I ask. “Shouldn’t you hear what I have to say first? I guarantee they are interesting options—perhaps you’ll even want both and not know which to choose.”
She looks at me skeptically, but she’s listening. What other choice does she have?
“A).” I start as my eyes trace her delectably angry features. Her huge eyes, her long lashes, and the slight dusting of freckles across her nose that have become more visible under the harsh lighting of the room.
“You get on your knees right now and suck me off,” I say.
All the color drains from her face. It’s fascinating to watch, and I almost smile, but I manage to hold back. “This is payback for thinking you can just hit me like I’m nothing.”
I can almost feel the chill running through her entire body. It is clear she has never slapped anybody in her life. Only me. Because I drove her mad.
“Ask me what the second option is,” I murmur, holding her shocked gaze.
She trembles despite her attempt to mask it. “What’s the second option?” Her voice quivers, but there is still some defiance there. She is a natural-born fighter, but I always knew that.
I lean in even closer, ensuring she feels every bit of my presence. “I’m sorry, what did you say? I couldn’t quite hear you.”
Her eyes flash. “What is the second option?” she repeats, louder and more ferociously.
“That’s more like it. You sound so adorable when you’re compliant.” I move my hand from the back of her neck, brushing it down her skin upwards towards her face. She flinches, of course, but I know it’s just a show. She’s always so fucking dramatic. “The second option,” I tell her as my thumb presses against her full bottom lip, feeling its softness. For a moment, I’m tempted to taste it, but I restrain myself. For legal purposes—both now and in the future—it’s better that she chooses what I do to her.
“The second option is… I want you to spill into my hands.”
Her eyes widen with astonishment, and she stares at me with disbelief. “What?”
“It’s exactly what you think,” I reply, watching her reaction carefully.
“I want to slide my fingers into you and fuck you until you’re spilling down my hands, and then…”
“What?” she whispers, scandalized… and excited.
“Then you’re going to lick your juices off my fingers. I want you to see how you look when you are turned on, when you climax, and when you taste yourself.”
Her eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. “You’re joking, right?” she asks, her voice cracking as she tries to hold onto some semblance of propriety.
I bring my hand back to her cheek, stroking it gently. “Why?” I ask softly, my thumb brushing over her soft, pillowy lips again. “Do I look or sound like I’m joking?”
Chapter Eighteen
LARA
Okay, that’s it. The man is certifiably insane. I am dealing with a sick individual with twisted perversions. That is the only explanation I can think of. How can he even think of asking what he just did from someone who is almost a total stranger? I want to scream, but I know my father will most definitely hear and come bursting through the door. I don’t want to make matters worse than they already are. My situation is already far too precarious.
“No,” I say, my voice firm.
The madman smiles. “No to which option? Number one or number two?”
I gather my strength and, with both hands, shove against his chest, trying to push him away, but he doesn’t budge in the slightest. He’s like a big rock in the way of the rest of my life.