Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 178117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 891(@200wpm)___ 712(@250wpm)___ 594(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 178117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 891(@200wpm)___ 712(@250wpm)___ 594(@300wpm)
“What isn’t?” I ask.
“This. Labor. Work. Sweat.” His nostrils flare. “I need more.”
“You can clean up downstairs too if you want,” I reply. “I can help.”
“No. You’ve done more than enough.” He clutches the broom in his hands so tightly I’m afraid it might snap. “But I … I haven’t done enough to fix the damage I caused.”
“It wasn’t your guys who did this. It was my father’s men—”
The broom drops to the floor. “Shut up and fucking use me.”
My eyes widen. “What?”
“You heard me.” The look on his face is dead serious. “Use me like I used you.”
I’m too stunned to even say a word, let alone breathe.
But goddamn … is that proposition hard to refuse.
“Oh … this sounds interesting,” Alistair says as he gets up from the floor to throw the last bit of glass into the trash.
“Use you … how?” I ask, tilting my head.
Felix’s jaw tightens. “You know exactly how.”
“Wow, I am here for this,” Dylan murmurs as he sits down backward on a chair, pointing it in my direction like he’s gonna watch a show and doesn’t want to look away.
“Anything I want?” I ask, raising a brow.
“Everything you need,” he replies.
The look in his eyes is lethal as though he could snap a neck at my beck and call, and it makes me feel powerful. The kind of power no one can take but is only given. And right now he’s handing it to me on a silver platter.
“You think you could take that?” I ask as I close in on him.
His eyes sparkle with greed. “Give me your worst. Everything you’ve wanted to call me. All the pain you wanted to dish out. Give it to me.”
I’m right in front of him, and I can’t resist.
Slap!
An imprint of my hand is left on his cheek, glowing red.
I’ve wanted to do that for ages—ever since I learned the truth. And fuck, does it feel good to get it out of my system finally.
“Again …” he says.
But instead of slapping him, I point at the cross they hung me from. “Stand there.”
His brows draw together, but he still does what I say. I follow him and stand right in front of him, taunting him with a devious look. Then I grab his wrist, pin it to the cross just as he did with me, and I tie the leather strap around it, and then do the same to the other wrist, tying him in place.
Now he knows how it feels.
But I’m not there yet. Not even close.
I grab his face and lean in, rubbing my lips across his, but not close enough to actually kiss. “I want to see how much you can take.”
“Oh fuck …” Dylan groans. “This is gonna get me hard.”
I pull away right as he leans in for a kiss, and I love to leave him hanging for more. I head to his cabinet and check out the drawers. It’s filled with kinky toys that I don’t even know the name of, but some of it sure looks interesting, and definitely something I’d love to use. But for now, this set of handcuffs will do.
“Hard you said?” I glance at Dylan over my shoulder. “Turn around in your chair, then.”
With a filthy smirk on his face, he spins the chair around with ease and sits back down. “Too late. I’m already there.” And he points at his dick protruding through the fabric of his pants.
But I ignore it and grab his hands, pinning them to the back of the chair until he yelps, “Ow. God, this could almost make me forget about being gunned down.”
“Good.” And I lock them in place, putting the key that’s on a chain around my neck.
“Wow, is this some sort of revenge for what we did?” he asks as I step back and admire both of them hanging there, helplessly.
“Maybe,” I say.
I admit it does feel good to have them in the same position they kept me. But this time, I’m the one in charge … and boy, does it feel good.
“Ali, close the curtains,” I say, even though there are holes in them, but at least it’ll provide some sort of privacy for all the filthy stuff I have in mind.
He immediately springs into action and does what I ask. “Good boy.”
He turns to throw me a surprised look and then side-glances at Dylan.
I know that’s what Dylan called him.
But now it’s my turn.
And I’m going to have a lot of fun torturing these boys.
I sit on the edge of the oversized couch that I filled up again and part my legs.
Felix’s lips part, and a hampered breath leaves his mouth the second I start touching myself through the fabric of the pants I borrowed from him.
“You denied me over and over again, pushing me to the edge without relief,” I say, playing with myself right in front of them. “So let me return the fucking favor.”