Total pages in book: 188
Estimated words: 179812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 899(@200wpm)___ 719(@250wpm)___ 599(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 179812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 899(@200wpm)___ 719(@250wpm)___ 599(@300wpm)
And God, he’s massive.
He’s even larger than I thought he was going to be. His body has more strength, more power than I’d imagined. So much so that all he has to do is widen his thighs and my world tips on its axis. My legs spread open even more and I almost lose my balance. I have to tighten my grip on his arm to save myself.
“Answer me,” he rasps. “You wanna wear a necklace made of my teeth marks, baby?”
Oh God. Oh God. Oh my God. I don’t know how to deal with this. I don’t know how to deal with him and his touch—his hand around my neck?!—and his endearments. Even so, I say, “No.”
“Yeah, didn’t think so,” he goes on.
“You—”
“Or not yet at least.”
“No, never.”
He chuckles, lowly, darkly, threateningly. “Yeah, we’ll see.”
“Can you—”
“I like this better,” he says then.
Before I can ask what he means, he shows me. He puts his thumb on it. On my belly button ring. Tonight, instead of a stud, I’m wearing a silver hoop. It’s more wholesome and innocent. As wholesome and innocent a belly button ring can be. And he flicks it, making me suck in my belly, as he continues, “It’s easier to play with.” Then, as if to demonstrate, he uses his thumb to toy with it for a few seconds, making me bite my lip, making my belly tremble. Before saying, “Easier to hook my pinky in it too,”—he does that as well—“and tug.”
Of course, he tugs my ring too, making it somehow… ache, everything below my belly and I have to make a very conscious effort to not let out a moan. “It’s for the… job. I get b-bigger tips.”
He hums and squeezes my neck again. “Yeah, your fucking job and your fucking tips.”
“You need to…” I breathe out, tilting my head back so I can loosen his grip and breathe. “You need to let me go so I can… I can d-dance for you.”
“Oh, you’re going to dance for me, Little Strawberry, but first, we need to have a little chat.”
I try to move in his grip again, get some form of control back, but again, all he has to do is press his hand on my tummy and pull at my belly ring, digging the heel into my lower belly, and widen his legs to make me stay in place.
I dig my nails into his arm. “What… What chat?”
“About how things are going to be from now on.”
“I don’t—”
“First,” he cuts me off, squeezing my throat again. “I like your mouth. Actually, I fucking love your mouth. I love how soft it looks. How pink and thick. Like a juicy fruit. But then again, every inch of you reminds me of a fucking fruit, so that’s not really a surprise, is it?” Another squeeze. “I also love when you sass me with it. Within reason, of course. But what I don’t like”—another threatening squeeze—“is when you run your mouth about being with other guys.”
I jerk, my dangling ankles arching. “What?”
“That’s what you said, didn’t you,” he rasps. “Last night. That you were following in my footsteps.”
“I—”
“You wanna follow me around, baby, you go for it. I’ll follow you back. Hell, I’ll even get matching leashes for each other. But if you even joke about other guys, I’m going to punish you in ways your naïve schoolgirl brain hasn’t dreamed of yet, yeah?”
“P-punish me?”
“Are we clear?”
My heart is pounding in my chest, and once again I try to move away from him. Or simply gain some control, but all he has to do is tighten his grip on me and I’m left off-kilter again. I totally forgot about the taunt I issued last night. It was meant to show him that he can’t fuck with me, but God, who am I kidding? He isn’t a toxic snake for nothing. I shouldn’t keep baiting him the way I do.
“Please, I—”
“Answer me,” he commands again.
I swallow under the confines of his hand. “Y-yes.”
“Good,” he praises.
And I clench my eyes shut at how thrilling that feels. God, I’m such a freaking fool. My thighs are spread to almost as much as I can take. My throat is starting to smart under his tight grip. His hand on my belly is keeping me plastered to him in a way where I know he won’t let me move, while he pulls, pulls, pulls on my belly button ring. I have no control whatsoever over my own body and yet, yet, I can’t stop the shivers at his good.
“Now,” he says, and I snap my eyes open. “No more sexy schoolgirl outfits.”
“I… What?”
“Or any outfit,” he clarifies, “short enough to get a peek of those white lacy panties every time you walk. Or flimsy enough that I can take it apart with my teeth.”