Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83519 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83519 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
“I’d tell you you’re a fucking lunatic, but I think you already know,” he growls as he drags me toward the bed.
I fight him because that’s my role in this, but my nails on his skin are ineffective, the water preventing me from gaining any real purchase.
“I just wanted a shower,” I snap, trying to hit him in the face, but he’s just too damn big.
“And you think you can get those things off of me?” He pulls me by the hair until his lips are right at my ear. “You think I fucking owe you something?”
I’m trembling, the ancient heater in the room unable to keep up with the winter weather outside.
I’m not shaking from fear, and that thought allows a level of disappointment to settle inside of me.
The first time he did this, I was terrified. The second time on the side of the road still managed to hold that level of what-if to it.
Right now? He’s proven more than once that he has boundaries, but then I think maybe I haven’t pushed him as far as he can go.
That thought makes unease swim inside of me.
Would pushing him work? Or would I regret it? Would he hurt me too badly?
Isn’t that what I want?
Wasn’t I shocked to even wake up this morning? It was too late to make a different decision when I realized the man has the ability to seriously hurt or kill me, but instead of even fucking me while unconscious, he put me in the fucking bed, so I could sleep more comfortably.
Just as I’m thinking he’s nothing like I expected, nothing like I needed, he shakes my entire body with the force of his hand tangled in my hair.
I yell as my scalp screams like it’s on fire, each tug and shake making me ache from head to toe.
“Answer me, Lauren.”
“I’m-I-I just wanted to shower,” I say, because I’m not capable of even recalling what he asked.
“Why do you keep coming back when all I do is hurt you?”
I still. I stop fighting him, looking up at his face to give him my answer. “I like it.”
A slow, sinister smile spreads across his face.
“And if I take it too far?”
I swallow, wondering if my next confession will be taking it all too far. “I’ll like that, too.”
He watches my face for a brief second, and it’s as if time stands still. He knows what I want, but he’s struggling. Giving it to me is the very last thing he wants, despite the thickness of his cock, the proof that this turns him on just as much.
“I’m going to hurt you,” he promises.
“Please,” I beg, tears already welling in my eyes.
It’s pain and relief and need.
“Suck my cock,” he demands, releasing me so abruptly that I crash to the floor on my knees.
I don’t just give in, however. That isn’t part of the game.
He has to take it. That’s his role in all of this. As he unzips his pants and pins me with his thighs against my shoulders to the bed, I realize this comes so natural to him.
He doesn’t have to stop and think. He doesn’t have to do calculations and wonder if what he plans is going to work.
With his fingers back to fisting my hair, he drags my head back until I can hardly breathe with the angle he has my neck at, then he presses forward.
There’s no warning, no waiting a second to see if I’m ready, if my mouth is wet enough to take his dick. He wants it, so he takes it.
I keep my eyes open in challenge, the only thing I can control with the way he’s manhandling me. His eyes are half-lidded, filled with so much hatred and anger that I feel like the victor in this situation.
He’s not fucking my throat because he wants to, he’s doing it because he has to.
He’s unable to resist, but I don’t know if it’s me he can’t seem to cut loose or what he’s doing to me that he enjoys so much.
I feel nearly bereft in thinking that I’m just a series of holes for him to stick his dick in, that I’m interchangeable with any other woman he might encounter.
Anger roars through my blood, and along with digging my fingernails into his thighs, I clamp my mouth down on him. I’m not biting hard enough to draw blood because I know that’s something I might not survive, but I can tell by the flare in his eyes that it’s not comfortable either.
With a clenched jaw, Angel bends in the middle, that same evil smile on his face. He doesn’t try to pull free, and surprisingly, he doesn’t hit me across the face.
Instead, he wraps his hands around my throat until I have no other choice but to release him in an attempt to breathe.