Total pages in book: 767
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
"You don't have a choice in that. Neither of us do."
"What do you mean?" I didn't understand. Of course Andrés had a choice. He could hurt me, he could beat me, he could savor my pain. He could choose to do anything he wanted with me.
But he chose to cuddle me close and run his hands over my cool skin, imbuing my body with his steady warmth.
He didn't answer my question. Instead, he suddenly crushed his lips to mine in a fierce, hungry kiss. Every stroke of his tongue dominated my own, his mouth caressing mine hard enough to leave my lips swollen and tingling. I finally softened against him as my body warmed, the last of the chill of terror leaving my system as I found comfort in my captor’s desperate kiss.
Chapter 15
Andrés stayed with me for the rest of the day, holding me until Lauren brought lunch. She seemed surprised to see us together, and she had to come back a second time with more food for him. I wondered what had happened with Cristian to drive Andrés back to me in such a black mood, but I didn’t dare press him on the subject. I didn’t want the scary, violent man to resurface. I much preferred the sweet, caring man who petted me and draped my body across his chest while he leaned back against the headboard and read Watchmen with me.
I went back to the beginning of the story since Andrés had never read it before, and I found a strange joy in sharing it with him, almost as though I were able to experience it again for the first time myself. Only better than that, because he wasn’t jaded by years of warring fandoms. There was a weird innocence in watching him begin to enjoy the story, his lips curving with satisfaction as he turned the pages faster and faster.
He glanced down and noticed me watching him.
“Am I more interesting than your superheroes?” he asked, ruffling my hair.
“Anti-heroes,” I corrected him. “Well, some of them, anyway. That’s what makes them interesting.”
“Then why are you looking at me?”
I shrugged. “I already read it. I know the story.”
He set the book aside. “Then I’ll get you a different one. I don’t want you to be bored.”
“I’m not,” I answered honestly. “You can keep reading it.”
His smile twisted. “I don’t want to read right now. Not when you’re watching me like that, my curious gatita.” He took my hand and pressed it against his growing erection. His suit was rumpled from laying on the bed with me for hours, but he still looked powerful. Magnetic. The feel of his desire for me through his slacks made power pulse through my veins. This was for me. I wasn’t scared of him when he was like this, even though a part of my brain acknowledged the fact that my captor’s arousal should definitely terrify me.
But he’d never used me against my will. He’d never forced me to take his cock. He might have conditioned me to like it, but the knowledge that I’d been conditioned didn’t make his training any less effective.
My core fluttered and heated, my lower lips growing slick with my own arousal.
His hands closed around my waist, and he shifted my body off his. “On your hands and knees,” he ordered, his voice dropping deeper with desire.
I got into position without argument. After the intense fear and vulnerability of our scene in the playroom that morning, I was feeling particularly clingy. I wanted to be close to him, for him to touch me and tell me I was safe. Even though he had been the one to scare me in the first place. It was fucked up, but I ached to please him, to make him laugh and look at me with pleasure in his dark eyes.
I told myself that my weird feelings were a survival imperative; if my captor was happy with me, he wouldn’t hurt me.
But I’d seen the pain that lurked alongside the rage when he’d strapped me down to the spanking bench. I’d seen the calm that came over him once he had me bound, unable to escape him. He needed this from me.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured as he traced the line of my spine. “Stay.”
He left me briefly to retrieve a few items from the chest of drawers where he seemed to stash a multitude of kinky toys. I waited, trying to remain calm without his touch to ground me. It was unnerving, this… need. I craved physical contact with Andrés, and even in those few seconds of separation, a hollow sensation began gnawing at my gut.
Subdrop. I’d read about it online. Submissives could go into a depressive state after an intense BDSM scene, and they needed to be cuddled by their Doms until the feeling passed.