Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
“Get ready for bed, Anya. You need sleep. We've had a long day."
It feels like I've had a long month.
Year?
Lifetime?
But he's right. I do need to get some sleep.
He shrugs out of his shirt, then folds it before he places it in a hamper with dirty clothes. I've never seen anybody fold clothes before tossing them into a hamper, but it’s on point for him.
Alright. If he can get undressed in front of me, I can play that game.
When I shrug out of the dress top that was my mother's, it feels as if I'm shedding a part of who I am—my childhood, the memory of my mother. I chose a few of my favorite items from the clothing left in the closet before we left my former home. This top… I can still remember she wore it the day we opened the bakery. I pull it over my head, and just to appease him—and see if he notices—I fold it before I put it in the hamper.
His gaze grows molten.
“I’m keeping that.”
“Of course you are.”
I turn away, pretending I didn’t see the way his desire flares and his dick tents his pants. Ha.
Next, the zipper of my skirt. I drag it down, my back toward him. It's old-fashioned, I know, but it was also my mother's, so I love it.
I miss her. I miss her so damn much. I ball it up and toss it into the hamper.
He flinches.
Was it the sudden movement or the balled-up clothing? No wonder one of the first things he taught Stefan was to clean his room.
I stand in front of him, wearing my panties and a bra—pretty, well-fitted garments he’s obviously imagining taking off.
I swallow hard.
"We don't have time for this," he says in a low growl.
"Getting ready for bed?" I ask innocently. I am so tired. My eyes feel heavy, but adrenaline courses through me, reminding me of what happened earlier today. "Somewhere to go?"
He narrows his eyes on me and licks his lips.
"You know what I mean. I'm trying to be responsible, Anya, and not fuck you every minute of the day like I want to. But believe me when I tell you, I am far from having exorcised that demon."
A thrill courses through me. My nipples harden.
"I can help with that." My mouth waters when I look at the hard planes of muscle, the stunning ink. When I take a step closer, his Superman-like gaze pins me in place.
I shouldn't do this. But when I reach him, and he slides his hand to the small of my back before he cups my ass, I forget why.
His large, rough palms grip my ass, and I slide one leg up, anchoring myself over his hip. When he buries his mouth in the nape of my neck, my head falls back, and I gasp for breath. He laps at my skin with the flat of his tongue, and my clit throbs with the memory of where he placed his mouth earlier.
I throw my arms around his neck and squeeze, needing more pressure and less, more tongue and mouth—more, more…
He suckles my neck and bites my collarbone. I moan with pleasure. Palming my pussy, he presses with the heel of his hand. I grind against him, so close to climax. I feel like a teenager. What the actual hell is going on here?
"On the bed," he rasps. "Take those off and get on your hands and knees. Grab the headboard, Anya."
Oh god. That’ll make me vulnerable. Exposed.
Isn't this what I wanted?
I obediently take off my bra and panties, crawl onto the bed, and grab the headboard. I spread my legs, aware of him approaching me from behind.
"I know you're probably sore from earlier," he whispers.
I shrug, not wanting to admit that I am. Where has my sense of self-preservation gone?
He slowly takes off his glasses and folds them. Oh god, I’ve already come to learn that means he’s about to get busy. “Doesn't mean I can't put my fingers in you and finger-fuck you while I lick your pussy again, does it?"
My pulse skyrockets. I shake my head, my mouth dry. "Suppose not," I say, stifling a giggle.
"But first, your punishment, Anya."
"Wait a minute, I—"
He holds my lower back under his palm while he lifts the other one and slams it across the fullest part of my ass. I clench, but the pain quickly morphs into pleasure, and I already feel wet heat growing between my legs.
“You like it when I punish you.”
Heat floods my core. I let out a soft, desperate mewl.
“I want to fuck this pussy so bad. Not now. You need time to heal. I won’t hurt you, Anya.” He slaps my ass again, hard. “Except to do this.”
"I'm fine—" I whine, which earns me another hard spank.
"No. I'll make you come, baby, but with my fingers." I stifle a scream when he bends, bites the place he spanked, then licks it.