Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 188(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
"You can't stop me, Thalia," I whisper softly, my voice rough with desire. "Let me feel how much you love knowing I'm going to take what I want from you."
She does, arousal dripping from her little hole to soak my cock, dragging me closer to oblivion.
Fuck, she's perfect. We're perfect together, a wicked prince and his not-so-innocent captive, bound by desires darker than the night sky.
In this moment, we are everything.
I thrust against her, the head of my cock grinding against her clit with every shift of my hips. The friction builds an inferno inside of me. She's drenched, her arousal coating us both as I thrust harder, faster, claiming what she's so willingly offering.
"Thalia," I growl, pressing my lips to her ear to make sure she hears me. "You belong to me. Every perfect fucking inch of you is mine."
My words send her over the edge. She shudders beneath me, pleasure wracking her perfect body. Her pussy grows wetter as she writhes against me. Her movements, the flood of arousal dripping from her, the sweet way she whimpers—everything about her works together, sending me catapulting over the edge with her.
I bury my face in her throat, groaning as I make a mess all over her pretty little pussy. The sight of my cum right there sends possessiveness churning through me.
My fingers are slick with her juices and my cum as I press them into her, ensuring every drop I spilled goes inside her tight cunt where it belongs. It's a primal act, me marking my territory.
Her eyes flutter open, heavy with sleep and satisfaction as she watches me do it, her eyes locked on my face. When I'm finished, she hits me with a smile that's pure sunshine, pure bliss.
I respond instinctively, crashing my mouth down on hers in a kiss that's all-consuming. I want to devour her, leave my taste behind so I'm on her lips years into the future.
"Oh, sweet Thalia. I'm going to have so much fun with you," I breath, my voice a low rumble. My cock throbs at the thought of all the ways I'm going to torment her with pleasure, pushing her to the very brink of ecstasy and then beyond.
Her arms wind around my neck, drawing me closer. "I missed you," she murmurs against my lips.
It feels like it's been lightyears since anyone or anything has pierced the walls I erected around my heart when my mother died. But those three words do it with ease. She slips into place there, claiming entire sections of it.
This mysterious, curvy little goddess isn't simply a prize to be claimed. She's becoming the axis on which my world spins.
For a long moment, I say nothing, simply holding her, overwhelmed. Terrified.
Then, in a hushed whisper, I admit the truth, "I missed you too."
Chapter Six
Thalia
Sunlight flickers through the trees, casting distorted shadows as Troy and I stroll along the path toward a small pond he swears is there. He's been saying that for the last half hour, but I'm beginning to think he's gotten us turned around in the dense forest.
Part of me almost hopes he has.
My stomach flutters with nervous energy at the thought of swimming in a pond. I've never swam in anything bigger than a pool before. The prospect of swimming in something where I can't see the bottom is moderately terrifying. Not to mention, fish and frogs and snakes and God only knows what else lives in ponds.
What if they bite? What if they're enchanted by some strange magic in this place and I end up cursed for another ten years?
It could happen.
"Maybe we should go back to the cabin," I say, anxiety churning through me.
"No. We're going to the pond, and you're going to swim when we get there, Thalia," he says.
"But—"
"No."
"I've never swam in a pond before, Troy," I whisper.
His obsidian eyes lock with mine. "All the more reason for you to do it now, sweet Thalia. I won't allow anything to happen to you."
"Maybe you should swim, and I should watch from a safe distance," I negotiate. "Like the shore. The shore seems safe."
"Absolutely not." His tone leaves no room for argument.
"Has anyone ever told you that you're a tyrant?" I ask, scowling up at him, not particularly used to being told no. I don't think I like it. But he says it as if he's had plenty of practice. It's probably his favorite word.
Part of me expects him to be amused by my little temper tantrum, but he isn't. There's no humor in his laugh and no warmth in his tone. He's cold and distant when he responds. "A tyrant? You haven't seen just how tyrannical I can be, Thalia."
The flash of self-loathing in his eyes tells me he actually sees himself that way. He truly believes he's a tyrant.