Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
“Wife,” I murmur. “I’m your wife now.”
“Say that again. Makes me feel like a fucking king.”
I lick my lips, my heart thundering as I open my mouth, hesitate, then plunge into the deep end. “I’m the wife of Ramses Moreno. I love Ramses Moreno. He’s my stepfather and my husband,” I tell him, pushing the smile to my lips, watching a softness enter his hard blue eyes as those dark lashes flutter.
“Fucking right.” He chuckles conceitedly, bristling with self-confidence as he turns, and I see the tattoos across his back, following them with my eyes as they stretch and undulate with every movement.
Then I spot it. Glinting under his pillow.
Looks like I’m not the only one with a healthy fear of the dark. My stepfather sleeps with a gun tucked under his head.
I still remember the times he took me to the gun range. And the other times. The times when the guns weren’t licensed, and the targets were set up by hand. He taught me how to take the safety off, how to hold a firearm, and how to shoot a man so he won’t get back up.
Ramses knows how proficient I am.
This is it. The moment I knew would come.
But, what about…what if… I let my fingers drift to my belly.
Doesn’t matter. No one takes me by force. He’s a ten, but he’s a psycho and has some many red flag flying over his head, I need to be practical.
I’m one hundred percent running on impulse, fire in my veins as I lean in to kiss him, my hand easing under the pillow.
“Kiss me, Daddy,” I purr, and something inside him melts. I see it in the weight that lifts from his shoulders. The furrow in his brow smooths.
Now, Bijou. Do it now…
The handle of the gun slips into my fingers so easily, the weight reassuring. And I’m on my feet, not caring that I’m naked. This man’s put his cock inside me pretty much everywhere possible so a little skin between husband and wife doesn’t even register for me at this point.
In a breath, I’m pointing the gun his way, sliding out of the bed, backing across the room on a smile. I flick the switch to see his smirk, eyes glinting as his tongue plays with the corner of his mouth so enticingly, I almost drop the weapon and fling myself at him.
“What game are we playing, Little Lamb?”
“No game. I’m leaving. And if you come after me, I’ll shoot you. I’ll have this marriage annulled by lunchtime.”
His eyes dart up and down, taking me in, pupils dilating as they skim over every inch of exposed flesh.
“Really? Dressed like that? Or undressed, I should say. You realize of course I’ll be forced to cut out the eyes of any man that sees you. And their tongues. Can’t have them talking about what they’ve seen.”
“You’re a bastard.”
“That’s me being my most philanthropic, darling daughter wife. I could kill them, but I’ll let them live if they can’t speak.”
“Fucker.” I blink, surprised when it turns the room into a kaleidoscope of color. Am I crying because he’s such a psycho, or because I want to be with him? Focus, Bijou, it’s now or never. You’ll never have another chance. “Throw me one of your shirts,” I demand.
He chuckles, turns, and pulls open the drawer beside him. And I panic.
“No sudden moves,” I tell him. “Slower. One hand. Damn it! Stop. You know I know how to shoot.”
The gun goes off, a bullet tearing into the wall a few inches above his head. A squeak of shock and horror escapes my lips, but he doesn’t flinch. He turns with something white held in his hand and tosses it my way. It falls at my feet.
“A white shirt. Just like you asked,” he says. “You’d look beautiful in anything, darling, but how are you going to put it on and keep that gun on me?”
I glare, bending at the knees and squeezing my thighs together as I crouch to grab it, not willing to give him the satisfaction of another glimpse of my pussy. “I’ll manage,” I mutter. “You come after me and you won’t even hear the shot that kills you. You taught me a lot, maybe too much.”
“You were always a good student.”
With that, I’m gone, darting out of the door with the gun in one hand and the shirt clasped in the other. I dart naked to the end of the corridor, then through a doorway into a stairwell, ignoring the elevator. I don’t want to wait, and I don’t know how much control he has here. If he called security and told them to stop the elevator with me inside, would they do it? Trap me?
I can’t take that risk. I back to the wall, breathing heavily as I clasp the shirt to my chest, my nipples still peaking at the memory of the look in his eyes.