Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 90972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
And she’s still sleeping as I take a step into the closet, sort of lost over what happens next.
This is my fault. I’m the one who left her like this, shaking, even whimpering a little. Arms wrapped tight around herself, knees pulled up as close to her chest as she can get them. How many hours must she have spent rocking back and forth, trying to comfort herself over something I approved?
It’s not my fault. I didn’t do this. Taking a deep breath, I center myself. I remind myself what this is all about. I have nothing to do with it, and besides, I didn’t put the wheels in motion. I’m following orders.
Finally, I have to make a move. “Hey. Wake up.” When all she does is whimper, I nudge her with the toe of my sneaker. “I said wake up. What are you doing in here?” Because even now, I can’t claim this. She won’t get an apology, and she won’t get an explanation. It’s enough that I showed up.
She snaps awake all at once, gasping and bleary-eyed, but alert, as she sits bolt upright and blinks hard against the light that must be a change compared to what she’s lived through since yesterday afternoon.
Finally, she recognizes me, and her mouth falls open. “Why are you here?”
Good question. I take a breath, ready to give her a quick excuse, but she’s quicker. Out of the two of us, she’s the one who got sleep last night.
“Son of a bitch!” She’s on her feet before I know it, eyes red and filling with tears. “I should’ve known! You did this! Or you told them to! I hate you, you bastard! I fucking hate you, all of you!”
She’s got a lot more strength than I thought she would today. And it rubs me the wrong way. “You know what? You’re welcome. I didn’t have to come here to get you, you know? I could’ve left you here, but I didn’t.”
“Oh, thank you so much.” With her hands on her hips, she glares up at me defiantly. “You’re a fucking prince, you know that? You drove all the way here after waking up in your bed, in your house, where you could eat and drink and do whatever you need to do! While I was here—”
“This is boring. I’m going.” I’m backing out, prepared to lock the door again, when she gasps and rushes to me.
“No, please.” Just like that, all of her strength is gone. All of that defiance. Now, tears start spilling over, hitting her chest and rolling down to soak into her bra cups. “Please, don’t do that. Don’t leave me here. I’m begging you. Don’t go!”
Oh, fuck. This might be the worst thing she could possibly do, begging me like that. Putting herself at my mercy, letting me see how terrified she is. Terror that goes so much deeper than anything I have imagined until now, terror that only comes from real suffering.
Here I am again, completely in control. Her God, towering over her, holding her fate in my hands. “What’s it worth to you?”
Her eyelids flutter, but somehow she doesn’t seem surprised. Not for long. “What do you want? Do you want me to jerk you off again? Just please, don’t leave me here.”
Hearing her say it out loud makes me twitch and swell, but that’s not what I have in mind now. “I was thinking more about getting you on your knees.” I’ve been thinking about it a lot. More than she would believe.
Her throat works when she gulps before her red-rimmed, swollen blue eyes drift downward to my crotch. She doesn’t waste any time. “And then you’ll let me go?”
I can only nod over the sudden tightness in my throat. I don’t think anybody could blame me for wondering if I really did finally fall asleep, and this is all a dream.
But no, the sight of her lowering herself to her knees without arguing is very real. Just as real as the touch of her hands to my waistband. I hold my breath, watching as she moves almost robotically through the process of letting my jeans drop to my ankles, leaving me in my boxer briefs.
Now she looks unsure of herself, but she’s not going to let that stop her. I can almost hear her thoughts since her face is so expressive. They might as well be printed across her forehead. It scrunches in concentration as she lowers my waistband and my cock springs free.
“Get to work,” I tell her, aching, already oozing a bead of precum from my tip. I can’t help it. I have imagined her this way so many times, and now here she is. And she has no choice.
Her nostrils flare when she takes a deep breath, but she wraps her hand around me without hesitating and guides me to her mouth.