Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 148397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Surrendering into his savage hold, I sucked in a breath and hissed, “Fuck you for ever making me think you were different.”
His eyes snapped closed; his nostrils flared.
When his gaze opened again, his utmost gratitude flared with absolute corruption.
“Aw, don’t be like that, little nightmare.” With trembling hands, he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. “I never hid who I was. In fact, I remember telling you that I’d be the worst friend you’d ever had.”
“One day, I’ll make you pay for this.” I did my best to hide how my heart flurried as his hands landed on his hips and shoved his boxer-briefs to mid-thigh.
His body.
His beautiful, perfect body.
So hard for me.
So bad for me.
Grabbing me around the waist, he hoisted me high. His fingers activated a particularly deep lash from the flogger all while stroking those maddening little coded circles on my skin.
Our own language.
A way of communicating right beneath Victor’s nose.
God, I love you. His thumbs swirled over the blue H marking my thigh.
I need you. I arched into his touch. Now.
“You’re soaking for me.” He chuckled. “Tell me again how you intend to make me pay.”
“Put me down.” I snapped my teeth. “Don’t touch me.” Squirming in my binds, I couldn’t hide my tattered moan as his hips lodged against mine and the heavenly nudge of his hot, hard cock found me.
My heart unravelled.
My blood prepared to detonate.
“Don’t touch you?” He smirked, rocking his hips between my legs, coating himself in my arousal. “But where would be the fun in that?”
His teeth found my ear and bit hard, all while his quietest whisper licked against my soul. “You own me, Ily. Body and soul.”
And then, he thrust.
Hard.
Vicious.
A spearing, pillaging penetration as he claimed me as spoils of his war.
I screamed.
I didn’t fake that.
It felt too good as our two bodies became one.
With a feral snarl, Henri’s control snapped.
His hips pistoned.
His cock slammed into me, again and again, pinning me against the wooden pole.
I gave up trying to act.
I sank into every thrust and spun into tighter knots.
Who would’ve thought I’d find freedom in captivity?
Who would’ve guessed when my Master used me like he hated me that I would feel such overwhelming love?
“I hate you!” I tried to bite his neck as he rode me harder.
“Hate me all you want,” he grunted, driving deeper, faster. “It won’t stop me from fucking you.”
Victor chuckled.
Henri bit my neck.
And the rest became a supernova.
* * * * *
I shielded my eyes as we stepped into Victor’s private nightclub.
The rainbow flashing strobe lights, hazy air, and scents of sharp alcohol reminded me so much of the night I was stolen that my heart stopped.
My feet stopped too.
Henri turned to face me.
His gaze held matching memories.
The way our eyes had met across the bar.
The way I’d known right there and then that he was different and unique and mine.
Reaching out, he grabbed my hand. Taking a gamble that Victor wouldn’t see as our host and capturer strolled through the elegant chaos, he squeezed my fingers and pressed a fleeting kiss to my lips. “It’s okay. It’s just another night.”
We’d gotten good at ‘just another night’. We dabbled with the toys Victor gave us and sometimes put on a different show, doing our best to prove that Henri felt nothing for me each time he abused me.
So far, we’d won.
Victor continued to be gallant and generous.
We’d headed back to the snuffbox as a foursome two days ago and regularly shared breakfast with him and Rachel in the mornings.
Victor had well and truly bought Henri’s act, and if a trafficking psychopath could be capable of favourites and fondness, he seemed well and truly smitten with Henri.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he even had a crush.
The way he watched Henri sometimes. The pride in his eyes as Henri drew my blood. The joy on his lips as Henri made me beg. Each time my Master whipped me, punished me, or chained me to fuck me, Victor praised his protégé as if he was personally responsible for Henri’s change of heart.
I didn’t care if he thought he was the reason.
I knew the truth.
I knew he was mine and no one else’s.
Henri flashed a look at the circular black velvet couches ringing the dance floor. Red light turned the entire place into a hell realm, crimson illumination falling from chandeliers dripping over each table, making the Masters’ eyes ghoulish and their skin as sickly as the dead.
“Peter mentioned Faiza and the cleaners managed to place a few small bombs in vases in the foyer today,” I said. The pumping music offered a perfect chance to talk.
I kept a careful eye on Victor as he patted the shoulders of his guests on the small dance floor, gossiping with those who’d flown in this weekend.
Another week.
Seven days tiptoeing us closer to Christmas.