Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 156392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
But how dare he threaten me?
After everything he did—and continues to do—to me?
And because I’m in the mood for a war, I go with confrontation.
“I’m not yours. Also…” I get on my tiptoes and stare at his frosty eyes. “V didn’t touch me. I was the one who was hot and bothered and couldn’t keep my hands off him.”
One second passes of us staring into each other’s eyes.
Two…
Three…
Four…
On the fifth, Eli grabs my waist roughly and flips me around in a blur of movement. My stomach pushes against the edge of the counter as he shoves me down.
I’m disoriented as my head rests on the marble, his hand wrapped around my nape like a noose, keeping me immobile.
“Eli, what are you—”
My words get caught on a startled sound of fear and anticipation when he uses his other hand to bunch my miniskirt to my waist, exposing my arse and the white lace panties I had to change into this morning after he caused me to dampen the previous ones.
I smell my own arousal and a whiff of Eli’s cologne as it mixes with my flowery perfume. My senses overflow with him, and my body feels like a pawn in his hands, completely under his control. My exposed thighs tingle with anticipation, adding to the pool of electrifying energy between us.
His palm strokes my arse cheek gently, almost lovingly, and I suppress whatever alien sound is pushing itself into my throat.
I’m not supposed to be attracted to this bastard, but I can’t help it when he touches me. I blame it on the sexual frustration he awakens every time he’s near me.
Or the way he provoked that carnal part of me this morning before we were interrupted.
The urge to tell him to stop is on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t say the words. Not when his fingers skim my skin in a slow, torturous rhythm. Sharp tingles start in my tummy and spread to my aching pussy.
“You seem to need a reality check on who the fuck you belong to, Mrs. King. This”—he pinches my arse cheek until I whimper, then slaps it, hard—“is mine.” Still gripping my arse with one hand, he releases my nape and reaches beneath my blouse, crumpling it and freeing it from the skirt, and then moves to my breast underneath the bra and squeezes my nipple in a painful, erotic pull. “These tits are also mine. But above all.” He slides his grip from my arse, cups my pussy through my panties, and strokes his finger on my swollen clit. “This cunt is fucking mine. The next time you offer it to someone else, I want you to remember that.”
His fingers trace the curve of my breast, his thumb grazing over my sensitive nipple as he bunches my underwear against my clit, rubbing, sliding the fabric up, down, and up again with practiced precision. A flush erupts on my skin and my lips part in a gasp before I bite the lower one.
I can’t stand the man, but he touches me, and I’m so close to begging.
He releases my nipple sooner than I’d prefer and then his hand disappears from beneath my shirt and he fists his fingers around my hair and tugs my head up. The scent of my arousal fills the air as his hot breath dances over my skin.
“I want you to remember this view, Mrs. King.” He thrusts the middle and ring fingers of his other hand inside my mouth. “Suck. Show me how much you want me.”
Or more like, my lips remain open for him to use as he sees fit. My mouth waters with anticipation, a soft moan escaping me as he lathers his fingers against my tongue and forces me to lick him. His intense touch ignites sparks of pleasure and I arch against him, needing something. Anything.
I don’t recognize the reflection in the mirror.
Not my crimson-colored face, my saliva coating his fingers, my hooded, lust-filled eyes, or the way my hands tremble as I grab onto the edge of the counter for dear life.
A deep part of me recognizes I should stop this. That I’ll regret it when it ends.
But right and wrong blur in a magnitude of indifference.
No, not indifference. Reckless impulsiveness.
I always knew my tendency to go with the flow would get me in trouble. I just never thought it’d lead to this.
Eli stands behind me, looming, like a God of War right in the middle of battle. His fingers tangle in my hair, gripping tightly as his dark, commanding eyes bore into mine.
His touch is both sensual and violent, a paradox that leaves me breathless. His intense gaze holds more weight than any words, nearly pushing me to the brink of madness. My sanity hangs by a thread as I’m trapped in the grip of this enigmatic man.