Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 116875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
Works for me. I’ve never met a woman who can handle my intensity. The women at Camille’s avoid me. They prefer Jaeger. That’s why, when I hire one, I only use them for one night, and never again. One and done, no repeats. Camille finds me a woman who can handle the rough stuff and gives them strict orders never to speak to me again. Of course, after I use them, none of the women want to. Which is fine, I never wanted more.
But with Bella, I want more. So it’s a good thing that she doesn’t seem to be repelled by the predator in me, that she seems fascinated by it.
“Yoohoo,” she calls from somewhere over my head. I look first to the towering oak, but she hasn’t climbed up there. She’s up on the roof of a big crypt, perched on the edge beside a stone statue shaped like a little dragon. The forest did a number on her, too. There are smudges of dirt on her face, green stains on her pink plaid outfit, and her hair is a mess, falling out of its neat braids.
I get a pulse of heat in my gut, seeing her ruined a little. It’s not as destroyed as she will be tonight, when I have her subdued at my feet.
“You’re going to pay for this.”
She kicks her feet, unbothered by my threat. “You have to catch me first.”
I growl and start forward, only to realize I’m dragging a piece of greenery. It’s one of those giant stalks topped with a lacy white flower, stuck to my jeans. I rip it off and toss it away.
She tilts her head. “I hate to tell you this, but that’s giant hogweed. It’s phototoxic. I’d go wash that sap off if I were you. And avoid the sun tomorrow. For like two days.”
Shit. I swipe at my arm where the stalk smeared its goo on me. My palm is sticky with it, and my skin feels prickly. It feels worse than the mushroom dust, but the sensation might be in my head. Although my nerve endings seem to be coming back online these days, it’d be bad timing to have my pain receptors heal right when my future bride makes me run a gauntlet of poison plants.
Fucking poison plant jizz. I had no idea something green could be so toxic.
I circle the crypt slowly. I can climb it or just jump and grab her leg. It’s dangling low enough for me to reach. But I don’t want to hurt her.
Physically, it would be so easy to overpower her. But I don’t want to conquer her with brute force. I want to lure her in. She’s unlike any other opponent I’ve ever had, and I’m giddy with the thought of mastering her. I’m even willing to lose a few rounds, as long as when the final bell rings, she’s kneeling at my feet, gazing up at me like I’m her world.
I return to face her. She’s been sitting quietly this whole time, braiding some of the green vines she’s gathered into a crown.
She’s up to something.
“You’re not afraid of me,” I say. There’s a wild gleam in her eye. She’s not cowed, and I like that. She’s willing to stand up to me. I’ve faced grown men in the ring who were more afraid of me than she is.
This is a good sign. Maybe she’ll be strong enough to withstand my intensity. I want her to last a long time as my toy. She’s already held my interest longer than any previous fucks.
“You have blackberry stains on your shirt. And a flower in your hair. It makes it hard to take you seriously.”
I reach up and she’s right. I free the white blossom and throw it on the ground. I look back up just in time to see her throw the viney crown at me. I catch it, then channel my rage and rip it apart while holding eye contact with her.
She giggles. She looks even more deranged like this. Like a little doll someone took out of a glass case and played with too hard.
My dick swells. St. James promised me a reward, and I told him I wanted her. She’s going to be my little doll, my little plaything. I’m going to take care of her, keep her safe. And in return, I get to be the one who plays with her too hard.
Our marriage will just be another level of ownership over her. And she knows it. That’s why she ran.
But… she’s not running now. No, she’s waiting for me to make my next move.
She’s curious. A bored little kitten who’s desperate for attention. I’ll only have to dangle a bit of string in front of her, and she’ll lunge for it.
I’ve read her file. I know her father pulled her out of school when she was only ten and has been homeschooled ever since. She’s been sheltered, shut away far too long with only plants to talk to. No friends, which means… no boyfriends or girlfriends. No holding hands, no kisses. No third base.