Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 66454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
He raises his brows and waits. Clothing. Yes, I want that. I’m quick to lift my arms, although that means my breasts are just hanging there for him to see. His eyes travel along my body with appreciation. My pussy clenches despite myself, and I bite down on my lip. I look away as he slips the dress over my shoulders. I just need to cover myself with something.
The soft fabric feels lavish against my skin, although my ass is still raw from yesterday.
He circles me and pulls my hair out from under the dress. His hands linger on my skin and make my eyes close from the comforting touch.
He sighs and sounds disappointed. “Next time I’ll be more prepared.” I’m not sure if he’s talking to me or to himself.
“You still look beautiful, but next time I’ll make sure you’re ready for them.” His eyes linger on my breasts and I realize my nipples are hard.
“Are you cold?” he asks with a smirk. Asshole.
I don’t respond, and have to seriously resist showing my anger.
He leans his head down and whispers against my neck. “You look utterly fuckable, Olivia. Especially when you tempt me like that.” His hand fists the hair at the nape of my neck. He pulls slightly, just to the point of pain and exposes my neck to him.
He plants gentle kisses behind my ear and down my neck. “You make me want to do bad things when you disrespect me like that.”
He pulls back and stares at my lips. They’re parted, and I swear he’s going to kiss me. But he doesn’t. He pulls away from me and walks to the dresser. I watch him as he adds cufflinks to complete his ensemble.
“Would you like that, angel?” he asks.
“Would I like what?” I ask him warily.
“If I did bad things to you?”
My eyes linger on his broad shoulders and then down his muscular frame. The faint smell of his scent lingers, a mix of woodsy pine and cigars. I would. Some fucked up part of me wants him to do very bad things to me. But those aren’t the words that come out.
“No,” I answer with bated breath, and he pauses his movements, looking at me expectantly. “Master K.” He gives me a small, approving smile.
“Good girl.” He looks in the mirror and then back at me with a devilish glint in his eyes. “I wish you wouldn’t lie to me though.”
My cheeks heat and I look away to avoid his gaze. It's the first time I really take in the room.
It’s luxurious, and by far the most beautiful room I’ve ever stepped foot in. All the furniture is modern and dark with clean lines. But the linens are a soft white with silver threading. The overall feel is bright and airy, with a fresh atmosphere. It’s a con though. I may as well be in a fucking dungeon.
I hear noises outside the room, and for a moment I think it’s someone coming in here. I shuffle closer to Kade and grip onto his leg, staring at the door, but the noises pass and no one comes in.
He looks down where my hands are and then to my face. I’m quick to take a step back and flash him a hateful look.
He doesn’t like that, and I wish I could take it back. My cheeks heat and I look down, hating that his approval is something I need for survival.
“This is your home for the time being. I’ll make sure you have everything you need.” I nod my head once, although I don’t really consider what he’s saying. Anxiety is still racing through my blood.
“We're going downstairs. You will not say a word. Do you understand?” I don’t know what it is, his anger, maybe his dominance, but something about the threat in his voice makes me want him even more. It shouldn’t, but it does.
“Yes, Kade,” I answer. His eyes narrow, and my heartbeat picks up with fear. I don’t know why he’s upset.
“Master K,” he corrects me.
“Master K,” I repeat as quickly as I can, and he relaxes his shoulders.
“When we’re here you can call me Kade, so long as we’re alone. But down there, you will call me Master K.”
I nod my head, keeping my eyes on him. He said not to speak, so I won’t. Even though I feel like I should. It's confusing.
Something shifts inside of me. I don’t mind his anger so much when I know what I’ve done to cause it. I expect it. I can’t help that I want to fight him. And he should fucking expect it. But the fact he got angry and I didn’t know why… I don’t like that. Not at all. I don't want it to happen again. At least when I'm pushing him I feel like I have some control. I need that. I need to know what to expect from him, and that's dependent on what I do.