Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
This is going to end, one way or another.
He pulls out, and I sag forward. I would fall, but he’s holding me up as I cough and hack. Drool drips from my lips. I wipe it away. There goes my lipstick. Tears stream out of my eyes.
“There,” he murmurs. He strokes my face, smearing the foundation and concealer further. He swipes his thumbs across the apples of my cheeks, and they come away black. My mascara must be bleeding down my face.
My makeup is ruined. All those layers of foundation and concealer, gone.
He pulls out a handkerchief and wipes the rest of my tears away.
“I can see your freckles again,” he says. With his blond hair haloed in the dying light, he’s as beautiful as an angel.
“What?” I croak. My throat is raw from the throat-fucking.
“I wanted to see your freckles.” His touch is reverent. He caresses the skin that’s been washed clean from my tears. “Now we can leave.”
13
Elodie
By the time the Lykan pulls up to Club Empire, my brain is mush. Every time I forget the sensation in my pussy, the balls move, and I clamp my muscles down, awakening my arousal all over again. My nipples are hard and pointy, chafed by the silk of my dress. I want to grab Jaeger and devour him.
It’s not possible to be this horny and survive.
I keep glancing at Jaeger’s lap, where his pants are tight. I haven’t cum, but neither has he. Not even when he used my mouth. He’s been denying himself alongside me.
It doesn’t make me feel better.
Club Empire isn’t what I’d expected. For one thing, it’s not flashy at all. There’s no sign on the front door announcing the kinky delights inside. It’s in a black building with a formal entrance fit for any sort of business.
I’ve heard rumors about this place, about the platinum membership that costs a hundred thousand dollars a year—or was it a month?—and about the playrooms where the rich and famous go to live out their deepest, darkest fantasies.
And now I’m here. With a member of Fraternitas.
The old me is wondering how in the hell I got here.
The new me is too horny to think straight. I guess that was Jaeger’s plan all along.
The valet comes up to open Jaeger’s door, but Jaeger holds up a hand for him to wait.
Jaeger pulls a set of white masks out of his pocket. Mine is lace to match my dress, and his is plain. He ties the ribbon around my head.
“You ready?” he asks me.
I swallow, staring at the red carpet lining the sidewalk leading into the club. A couple in fine evening wear strolls up and disappears inside.
He takes my hand, and I grip it, hard.
“I’ll be with you every step of the way,” he promises. It should calm my trepidation, but it stokes it instead.
What am I getting myself into?
Jaeger opens his door and tosses his keys to a valet before coming around to pick me up. Before he does, he says, “One more thing.” He stoops to fasten a white ribbon around my throat.
“What…” I go to tug at it, and he catches my hand.
“Do not remove it.”
“What is it? What does it mean?”
His eyes are dark, framed by the white mask. “It means you’re untouchable.”
“What?”
“Everyone can look, but if they try to claim what’s mine…” He traces the ribbon collaring my neck. “They die.”
I suck in a breath. He settles his hand around my throat, squeezing lightly. I feel the imprint of his grip even after he takes his hand away.
I cling to him as he carries me into the club and a cloud of expensive perfume. He sweeps through the foyer, passing the other guests, and heads upstairs, clearly familiar with the place.
I’m grateful he’s carrying me. My ankle is wrapped, and I’m wearing soft silk slippers that match the dress. I could probably walk, but it’s nice to have Jaeger take charge, even though the movement makes the silver balls roll back and forth inside me.
I clamp my legs together. My clit pulses to a silent beat.
Upstairs is a bar, smelling faintly of cigar smoke and cloves. The mahogany booths and velvet curtains remind me of Inferno. Against one wall is a long bar of polished wood, with unlabeled liquor bottles backlit against the mirror. The liquid in the bottles ranges from every shade of whiskey—rich amber to pale gold.
Jaeger sets me on a padded stool next to a high table in the far corner and heads for the bar. I keep still, becoming one with the shadows. The place is full of people in expensive finery, billionaires and socialites here to see and be seen.
Fortunately, no one looks at me. I check everyone’s hands, looking for skull rings, but only find two.
The men wearing them are in a booth, tucked into the shadows. They’re both in black tuxes, blending in with the rest of the party. One of the men is fair-haired, with a long, lean build that speaks of the fit and muscular body underneath.