Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 143453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
That’s currently me.
My breasts are smashed against the hard muscles of his chest. Our bodies have collided in a mesh of strength against softness.
In this position, the difference in size is too great to ignore. I’m so small compared to him that he could easily break and stomp all over me.
Leave me absolutely wrecked.
The skin where his fingers are touching my elbow sparks in a million fires, expanding all the way to my chest.
I’ve always heard about overwhelming tension, the type that lingers like a weight at the back of one’s throat and robs them any semblance of sanity and logical thinking.
But I never imagined it would be this…frightening.
This powerful.
And I need out of his orbit. Now.
I try to pull my elbow free, but it might as well be caught in a trap.
So I force my lips into a smile that probably looks awkward at best. “Oh, hi. I didn’t know you were coming today. You should probably go out and greet the fangirls and fanboy, Harry. They’ve been dejected thinking you wouldn’t be here—”
“Shut up.”
My lips slam shut in an attempt to actually stay quiet. Just two words are enough to stiffen my spine. All the anxiety from tossing and turning and staring at my balcony last night crashes back into me.
“You truly fucked up, Annika.” He pushes me backward with his commanding hold on my elbow. “I told you to give up on the fake boyfriend idea, but you went ahead and provoked me. You. Fucked. Up. You’re lucky I didn’t jump through your window and turn your skin red.”
A gasp echoes in the air and I realize it’s mine as my back hits one of the shelves. Creighton still has my elbow hostage, his body pressed against mine.
I’m sure he can feel my heaving chest and hear my choked breaths that rise over the sound of the music.
This is the first time I’ve witnessed this side of him, and it’s eliciting all sorts of emotions—fear, dread, but also thrill and anticipation.
The type I’ve never experienced before.
“What did I say would happen if you didn’t do as you were told?” His deep voice floats in the air and lands on my constricting chest.
I gulp the saliva that’s gathered in my mouth. For the first time, he’s the talkative one and I’m speechless, grappling for words and finding nothing.
“What the fuck did I say, Annika?”
I flinch at the whip of his commanding words and blurt, “That you would acquaint me with pain.”
The words are barely out of my mouth when he spins me around. A yelp escapes me as he grabs hold of my ponytail and shoves my head against a plastic bag of dog food.
That’s when I realize that I’m bent over, ass in the air, with him right behind me.
Strong fingers lift the skirt of my dress to my waist and a gust of air hits my bottom. Goosebumps erupt on my skin in terrifying succession and my temperature rises until I’m boiling.
“You should’ve listened, little purple. You really shouldn’t have provoked me.” He strokes his hand across my ass cheek and over my lace panties. His touch is sure, dominant, disallowing even an ounce of resistance.
I try to stare back, wanting—no, needing—to see his expression. The grip on my hair tightens, letting me know who’s in complete control here.
“You’ve been wiggling this little arse for weeks and it’s time to discipline it.” His chest covers my back—heavy, hot, and powerful. Then his whisper follows in my ear, “And you.”
“Creigh…” His name comes out like a haunted whisper. “Please.”
I don’t know what I’m begging for. For him to stop? To take this a step further? Test my limits to the point where I won’t be able to come back from this?
What exactly?
He pushes off me, his body heat leaving mine, but his merciless grip remains on my ponytail. “I didn’t ask you to beg yet. When I do, it’ll be much worse than this.”
What—
My thoughts are interrupted by his firm command, “Now, count to ten or we’ll start from scratch.”
A slap echoes in the air and my mouth opens in a wordless gasp. Pain erupts on my ass cheek, hot and fierce. But I don’t even focus on that when his hand meets my flesh again, harder than the first time.
So hard that my front bumps against the shelves and my legs shake.
“I don’t hear you counting.” His voice has darkened, becoming shadowy and rich with dominance. “We’ll go again.”
The slap collides with the mounting music and I whimper, “One.”
He smacks my ass again and a sob tears from my throat, mixed with the crescendo of the song and my raw breathing.
“T-two.”
The air is weighed down with a cloak of depravity and twisted emotions. I never imagined I would be in this position, held down, ass in the air, being spanked.