Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
“See, you’re trying to play a virtuous virgin, but your body shows signs of experience.”
“I have no experience.”
“Liar.” He settles his forehead on mine and gazes down on me, his face flushed, eyes almost black now with what can only be male arousal. “A beauty like you couldn’t walk two blocks in public and stay pure. A man would break. A man would steal that cherry, damn the consequences.”
My confusion only deepens. “My what?”
“Your virginity,” he enunciates.
“I…yes,” I stammer. “I’m a virgin.”
“Impossible.” He releases one of my wrists, trailing his knuckles down the side of my breast, my ribcage and hip. He shifts his hips to one side and begins to yank down my underwear, his breath turning shallow. “Are you going to make me prove you’re lying or are you going to start being real with me?”
“I fear you’ve mistaken me for someone else, Edison—”
“You could never be mistaken for anyone else,” he rasps, his attention falling to the juncture of my thighs. To my sex. His hips keep my right knee pinned open, so there is nothing I can do to shield myself. He’s seeing my naked flesh. The wetness. There’s nothing I can do to stop it—and I’m not sure I want to. Not when he’s visibly overcome by the sight of me.
He likes what he sees. A lot.
And I’m powerless to stop a fresh surge of moisture from coating me there.
“Lord have mercy,” he chokes out. “That’s a hot little cunt.”
His words are unfamiliar to me, but something inside of me likes them. His obvious crudeness makes me shudder with excitement, even though I don’t know what he’s saying. I think he means he likes my sex. And I…can’t help wanting him to like it. I can’t help tilting my hips and letting my left thigh drop wider, his answering groan giving me goosebumps.
“Listen here, little girl.” He trails his right thumb down the seam of my flesh, his left hand still manacling my wrist on the pillow. “This is your last chance to take responsibility for coming here under the pretense of begging on behalf of some orphans, when your real motive was to land a rich husband.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” I protest. “How would I even know you were looking for a wife?”
His thumb parts my wet core and teases me with a knuckle, fondling a spot that makes my hips wrench up off the bed, the breath fleeing from my lungs. While I’m reeling from the foreign sensations, he speaks to me in a hard voice. “Maybe you heard gossip about it at the church while you were stealing.”
Reality hits me at once.
Stealing. The church.
All the women downstairs in their evening gowns.
He’s been fed those lies about me—and he believes them.
Unexpectedly, his doubt regarding my character hurts. How can this man touch me so knowingly, yet condemn me at the same time? He’s the first man to touch me intimately and he believes me a thief? I’ve never stolen anything in my life. I’ve only made the mistake of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was begging on the steps of the church one afternoon when the collection plate went missing, but I would never take money that wasn’t freely given. “I’ve never stolen a thing, Edison,” I say, begging him to look at me, to see the truth of my words. “Won’t you believe me?”
There is conflict in his expression. He wants to trust me, but the skepticism wins. “Very well. You want me to prove you a liar?” His touch travels lower, to the breach of my body, his middle finger nudging gently inside of me. “You want me to prove you’re not some innocent do-gooder who accidentally happened to pass out on my doorstep?”
“Yes,” I whisper. I’m not sure why.
Maybe I want to break through to him. Maybe I just want to be believed. Trusted. I don’t know, but I bite down hard on my bottom lip and try not to cry out when he pushes that thick digit deep into my body. His confidence slips almost immediately, a furrow forming between his brows. But he doesn’t stop. My channel stretches to allow his finger deeper and it’s definitely on the verge of hurting…hurting…
There’s a light tear inside of me and pain blooms in my abdomen.
Not all bad pain. Some of it is the sharp anticipation of what’s to come next.
Pain of…need, I think. Perhaps lust?
But the edges are jagged with inexperience, the ache of being invaded for the first time.
I cry out at the discomfort and Edison pulls his finger out of me quicky, holding it up to the light to reveal the red proof of my innocence. “No.” His chest starts to puff up and down wildly. “Blessing. No. Oh God. What have I done?”