Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 146477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 732(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 146477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 732(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
His fingers work me deep, rolling inside of me, splitting and massaging as the heel of his palm works my clit. My body is worked to the edge, the strange mix of fear and pleasure confusing my system as my nails dig into his muscled forearm.
As his fingers curl inside me, massaging that mystical place that only few have ever found and worshipped, my eyes begin to roll in the back of my head.
Everything tightens, and I clench my jaw, the rapid intensity building in a way I wasn’t prepared for. “Oh, fuck. Knight.”
His body stiffens behind me, and suddenly his big hand is at my throat, squeezing as his fingers keep working me. His gaze locks on mine through the mirror, and I see nothing but evil staring back at me, turning my blood cold. “Call me by another man’s name, and this game will only be fun for one of us. Understood?”
Okay. It’s not Knight.
I swallow over the fear and hastily nod, and as his fingers tighten on my throat, it becomes harder to suck in a breath, but as he does that, his fingers buried in my cunt pick up speed.
He pushes me to my limits, and as I gasp for air, my world explodes. My orgasm tears out of me like a burst of wild lightning. Hot pulses of raw pleasure rock through my veins as my pussy shatters, my walls erratically convulsing around his skilled fingers.
He doesn’t stop working my body, grinding his palm against my sensitive clit as his fingers roll inside of me, intensifying every second of my pleasure until I finally start coming down from my high.
When he finally eases up on my throat, I take a hasty breath, desperate for sweet oxygen as he slowly pulls his fingers out of me. My knees weaken, and he releases his hold on me, leaving me scrambling to stay upright as he steps around me, making his way to my bedroom door.
Then just when I think he’s going to disappear, he turns back, locking those deadly eyes on mine. “Ready or not, kitten. I’m coming for you.”
And with that, he’s gone, leaving me gasping for air.
I fall to my knees, grabbing my discarded towel and pulling it over me as though that could somehow protect me from whatever the hell just went down in here. And as the black rose stares at me from my dresser, I finally understand what this is.
He’s playing a twisted game of hide and seek, and when he finds me, he’ll have me anyway he wants. And if I deny him, if I run or scream . . . It’s game over.
18
HARPER-RAYN
Ice clinks in my glass as Izzy and I hit the pre-drinks as hard as possible, preparing for one hell of a good night at whatever bar or club she decides to drag me to. Honestly, she’s told me the name of it three times already, and I still haven’t got the slightest idea where we are going.
“Have you ever tried waxing your own cooch?” she muses as she leans in toward my bathroom mirror to apply a second coat of mascara as I struggle to dress myself.
“Uhhh . . . What?”
“Well, have you?” she pushes. “I was reading this book, and on the very first page, the girl was talking about how she tried waxing and tore her whole lip off, and then her brother had to drive her to the emergency room while she was spread-eagle with wax, hair, and half her lip hanging off. It was traumatic, and I just feel you need to be careful with this shit.”
“What kind of pussy traumatizing books are you reading?”
Iz scoffs and laughs. “Hey, that’s tame. The book I read last week had the girl accidentally use a taser on her vag, thinking she’d picked up one of those little vibrators. Now that was traumatizing. I had to check through my bottom drawer to make sure I didn’t accidentally put a taser in there. I don’t want that shit happening to me.”
“Do you even own a taser?”
“No,” she laughs. “But a girl can never be too careful.”
“Cheers to that,” I say, lifting my glass and taking a healthy sip, welcoming the burn of vodka sailing down my throat. Taking the drink with me, I head into my closet for a pair of shoes, but I hesitate over the first pair and grab another. “Which shoes am I supposed to wear with this?”
“Show me,” Iz calls back.
Taking my shoes for a stroll across my small apartment, I hover in the bathroom doorway, holding them up and waiting for Izzy’s approval, because let’s face it, when Izabelle Grace Davenport is around, she must have final approval of every materialistic portion of my life. I won’t have it any other way.
Izzy glances toward the options, her face twisting in disgust. “Are you serious?” she scolds. “You bring me an old pair of sandals that are falling to pieces over a pair of sexy knee-high boots. There is no option. Throw those rank sandals out.”