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)
“Who do you play with?” I wondered who usually was capable of challenging him.
“Believe it or not, I do play online mostly. There’s not anyone here I’m interested in playing against. It doesn’t compare to sitting across from your opponent, though. Studying you is part of the game.”
“You play online? I thought you only got on your laptop to work. There’s like, no technology in this penthouse. I never even see you with a phone.”
“I don’t like to be easily reached once I come home. This is my space. And if you’re worrying that I’m wasting my time playing chess while you’re tied up, don’t. I’d much rather play games with you. I really am taking care of my business in the evenings. This is the first time I’ve played a game in weeks.”
My mind chose to skip over the topic of his business. Instead, I focused in on the fact that he’d chosen to play chess with me. He could just tie me up and toy with me. He could fuck my mouth and take his pleasure from my body, even without taking my virginity.
But he was choosing to play chess with me instead. What had seemed ridiculous and boring at first now made my chest warm.
Andrés valued me as more than his plaything.
“Don’t be too disappointed when I win this game,” he continued. “I really am impressed with your knowledge of chess. But I’ve known Scholar’s Mate for years. Valentina beat me with it half a dozen times before I caught on.”
“Who’s Valentina?” Something ugly stirred in my gut at the thought of him playing with another woman.
His face hardened again, the same way it had when he’d mentioned his grandmother. “My sister.”
I’d managed to pry into some secret pain again. “I’m sorry.” Guilt nipped at me, even though I wasn’t sure exactly what I was apologizing for. “You lost her?” I asked quietly.
“Yes,” he bit out. “I lost her.”
“How—”
“It’s your move,” he said tersely, a clear warning not to press him on this topic.
I nodded and moved a pawn, not really focusing on my choice. I was so caught up worrying over the fact that I’d upset him that he managed to beat me in five more moves.
He barely took the time to say “checkmate” before putting the board away.
“Can we play again?” I asked timidly.
He blinked and focused on me for the first time since I’d asked about Valentina’s fate. “You want to?”
“Yes. I’ll do better next time. I know I can beat you.”
A half-smile tilted his lips, and my heart squeezed. “Tomorrow,” he promised. “I have another game I want to play with my clever gatita.”
He hurt me that night. He made sure I enjoyed the experience, but he still left marks on my skin. My tears seemed to calm the dark mood that had settled over him.
I gave him my tears willingly, hoping that by shedding them for him, I could ease some of the pain that he kept locked inside.
Chapter 18
Andrés kept beating me at chess. But I persevered, if for no other reason than the fact that I liked watching his brow furrow in intense concentration when I actually managed to outmaneuver him. He was clearly a master strategist, which shouldn’t have surprised me, given the way he’d handled me over the last few weeks. He seemed to anticipate my every move—in chess and in the kinkier games we played.
I should have been scared at how complacent I’d become, but I couldn’t help finding moments of joy when we were together. I’d never shared this kind of intimacy with anyone, and it felt good to be so connected. It made me ache for more, and sometimes I almost broke down and begged him to fuck me.
I couldn’t quite bring myself to do it. I didn’t want to beg him for it. That reminded me of our first few days together, when he’d been demanding and scary. I enjoyed the fantasy of our relationship too much to face the reality that he was still demanding. And even if I no longer found him scary, he could definitely be intimidating. He touched me however he wanted, whenever he wanted. Just because I liked it didn’t mean my consent was necessary.
Was it? He still hadn’t taken me against my will. He held himself back, even though I could tell it caused him almost physical pain to deny himself what he wanted: me.
He wants me to beg, I often reminded myself. I won’t beg.
I might beg him to touch me on a daily basis, but I wouldn’t beg him to take my virginity. It was my last shred of dignity, of control over my own body and my own life. I couldn’t surrender it. No matter how badly my body ached for him to fill me, to connect with him in the most intimate way possible.