Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
She's yielding to me, but it's more than that. So much more. She's choosing this. Her body knows what she wants, even if her mind protests, and she’s allowing this.
It’s a small win, but I’ll take it.
My fingers close around her, my thumb brushing her nipples, one at a time. I bite back a groan of my own because the way she responds is addictive. Her fingertips curl against my thighs, and she tries to hold onto control, but she's slipping… slipping under my spell, and she's not going to get away. I trail my fingers down to the top of her, brushing water over her, fanning her. Her breathing grows heavier, and her hips shift against mine, pressing into me. My cock is at her entrance, hot, thick, and ready. My control hangs on by a thread. I want to take her and fuck her until she's boneless and screaming my name.
"Tell me you want this," I demand in her ear. "Fucking tell me, my little swan."
"No," she says, turning away from me with a teasing look in her eyes.
A spark of excitement fires in my chest. "So you do want that punishment I promised?"
She gives one noncommittal shrug of her shoulder. Of course she fucking does.
"Bad girls don't get pleasure, little swan. Only good girls do."
"Oh damn. I'll be a good girl for you," she says in a voice that melts every icy side of my heart. It's all I need. I turn her head and capture her mouth with mine, swallowing every sound, licking her tongue as I delve my fingers deep into her slick pussy.
I thrust, pressing her clit with my thumb, and thrust again.
She moans into my mouth, and I swallow it. Her hips rise, and I stroke again. I take her to the edge until she's tumbling, begging, and then I part her thighs and slide my cock into her slick, hot entrance. She’s so fucking tight. A virgin.
Christ.
"Oh my god," she says in a whisper. I hold myself back so I don’t hurt her as I thrust into her again, slowly, the hot water lapping against her bare chest and mine. "Oh my god."
"There's no turning away from me now, whether you remember who you are or not, Anissa," I say in her ear, my hand paused over her clit. My cock bobs inside her.
She nods. “I know,” she whispers with a groan. “I won’t.”
I thrust again, and her head falls back in unadulterated bliss. She moans, writhing, water lapping in waves against her bare breasts and chin while my pleasure eclipses everything. I curse and thrust, claiming her. I spill into her, milking the tight walls of her pussy as she climaxes with abandon. My senses drown in pleasure as I hold her on top of me, thrusting into her hot channel with claiming strokes.
“Yes,” she breathes, riding out her orgasm. “Yes.”
“Good girl,” I breathe into her ear. “That’s right, baby. Surrender. Confess you’re mine. Let me hear who owns you.”
Her response is breathless, choked, her voice thick with desire. “You,” she gasps, drunk with pleasure and helpless to protest. “I belong to you. Yours.”
I hold her to me.
My plan is working.
Only I don’t know what will happen when she remembers.
Chapter 11
“ANISSA”
I stir in my sleep, somewhere caught between reality and a drugged state of consciousness.
There's… a woman in my dreams. A woman with silvery gray hair and kind eyes, and my heart aches because I know her.
“Mom?” I want to say, but that doesn't seem right; something's wrong with it.
"Where are you, Polina?" She wrings her hands, and she's crying. There's a man—no, there are several men, faceless but not quite strangers, there with her, comforting her. They're familiar, but I couldn't name them. I couldn't place them.
My heart aches. I reach for her, and I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. I try, desperate to communicate with her as she gets farther and farther away from me. I can’t see how she’s drifting away, so I’m helpless to get to her or bring her back to me until her back is to me. The farther she goes, the harder I try to get her attention.
"I'm here," I want to say, which makes no sense to me, even in my dream, because… my name is not Polina. My name is Anissa. I have no mother. And who are the strangers?
Half waking, I feel strong arms around me, warm, comforting. Restrictive. I scream and thrash, but it does no good. I open my eyes and sit up, gasping for air.
I turn toward Rafail… my husband. He holds me. "You're all right," he says, and even though it looks like he's trying to soothe me, concern is written across his features. "I've got you. It was just a dream. Just a dream."