Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 134(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Elijah hasn’t stopped thinking about the timid Little who spends a lot of time at the club but never interacts with a Dominant. Even though he lives hours away on the island, he needs to see her again to discover if the chemistry he felt that night was real.
Agreeing to spend the summer on the island with the most amazing man she’s ever met isn’t a tough decision. Worrying about how she’ll ever be able to return to the mainland after her heart gets involved is the real problem.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter One
I’m super excited when I pull into the parking lot of The Dungeon. I haven’t been to the club in a few weeks. As a teacher, the last few weeks of school are always crazy hectic.
It’s finally summer. I’m off for two months, and I intend to spend a lot of that time at The Dungeon. This is the summer I’m going to find the perfect Daddy. I just have a feeling.
The Dungeon has been kind of boring ever since my best club friend, Briana, moved to the island to be with her Daddies. I’m so happy for her, but also jealous. How did she manage to find two Daddies, and I can’t even find one?
Now Briana is spending her free time at Littleworld, and I’m still in limbo, waiting for the perfect man. I know I’m picky, but I have to be. Finding a Daddy isn’t easy. Finding the right Daddy is even harder.
As jealous as I am of Briana, I don’t think Regression Island is the right fit for me. I’m definitely a Little, but I prefer to play at an older age. Five is about right for me. Crayons and toys. Dolls and puzzles.
I’m grinning as I step out of my car and grab my bag. I lift it over my head so it crosses over my chest. It contains my play clothes. I never arrive at The Dungeon dressed to play. I’m too afraid of someone vanilla seeing me in the parking lot. Or what if I happened to get pulled over for a faulty taillight or something? I’d be mortified if a police officer saw me in my Little attire driving a car.
As I shut the door and head toward the club, I hear footsteps coming from behind and turn to see who’s arrived at the same time as me. I’m expecting another club member.
Instead, I’m confronted with a young man who’s moving so fast he’s already upon me. He has on a baseball cap that’s so low on his face I can’t see his features. He’s wearing dark sweatpants and a dark sweatshirt.
I gasp when he stretches out his arm and grabs my bag. He tugs it hard, but the satchel is wrapped around me, and the straps are too sturdy to break. Plus, my adrenaline is pumping hard, and I have no interest in relinquishing my belongings to this thug.
I scream as I grasp onto the strap tight around my chest, hoping another club member is in the parking lot, or someone inside might hear me.
“Give me the purse, bitch.” The guy yanks on it again.
I kick him in the shin and hold on tight, screaming louder.
The guy reaches up higher, gets a better grip, and pulls one more time. This time, he has enough momentum that I stumble forward. I’m falling. The only thing that prevents me from landing on my face is his body.
I slam into him, which gives me the perfect opportunity to put some of my self-defense skills to use. Still gripping my satchel with one hand, I reach out with the other and grab his balls.
It’s convenient that he’s wearing loose sweatpants instead of jeans. I get lucky and manage to wrap my hand around the exact perfect spot. I squeeze as hard as I can.
The next scream that fills the air is his. It’s much louder than mine. “You fucking cunt.”
Unfortunately, my momentum is still forward, so when the guy jerks his junk free of my grip, I fall onto my hands and knees.
“Hey,” someone shouts from behind me.
I lift my head as the asshole scrambles backward.
He nearly falls on his ass trying to get away. His face is scrunched up in pain, and he’s staring at me hard. He turns and staggers away, picking up speed as three sets of legs come into my view.
I’m panting heavily and shaking as I push up onto my knees and then drop onto my butt, wincing at the scrapes on my palms. I can’t see my knees under my leggings, but they’re stinging, so I’m sure I scraped them up too.
“Petra, are you okay?” a female voice asks.
I lift my gaze to see Misha, one of the front desk helpers, squatting down in front of me.
Two men run past us, chasing my assailant.
“I think so,” I murmur. I stare at the backs of the men as they run, but the guy has already rounded the corner and disappeared.
Misha reaches for my hand and holds my fingers gently as we wait for the men. A few minutes later, they return at a jog. The man on the right is Mike. He’s one of the dungeon monitors.
The other one is a man I’ve seen a few times, but I don’t know his name. He’s tall though, and built. Huge muscles bulge from under his black T-shirt. He has thick brown hair and green eyes.