Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 124140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 621(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 621(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Stepping into his bedroom, he stripped off and turned on the shower. He stretched his back out, hearing it creak. He needed some time in the gym. Though most likely, he needed a day off.
He needed a good fuck.
Taking his cock in hand, he ran his hand up and down it.
Shit.
Yeah. A good fuck would relax him enough to let him sleep. Making sure that everyone knew he was now in charge of Sammy’s territory had taken up way too much time.
And he’d rather have been doing other things.
Like fucking a certain dark-haired, green-eyed brat?
Maybe he should go into her room. Check on her.
Fuck. No.
If she woke up and saw him watching her . . . yeah, she couldn’t deal with him and his needs. At thirty-four, he was way too fucking old for her.
And his needs were too much for her to handle.
He’d want to tie her up and edge her for hours. He’d want easy access to her at all hours of the day. He’d wake her with his cock on her lips, ready to sink deep into her mouth.
And he’d want her to go to sleep with his dick buried inside her, so he could take her whenever he wanted during the night.
He’d want total and utter submission.
She was a sub. Could she be a Little too?
His woman would give him her total and utter submission.
And he didn’t think Cat was capable of that.
The best thing he could do was send her on her way.
Once he made sure that no one knew about her encounter with Vince.
Stepping into the hot shower, he moved his hand faster and rougher. He just needed a release. Something to relax the tension in his body. To ensure that he didn’t go down to her room, spread those delicious thighs, and fuck her brains out.
Christ. He wanted to take her bare. He’d never taken a woman bare.
Not even Elena.
For him, it would be a claim of ownership.
Of protection.
He’d be a terrible owner. He couldn’t give her the time and attention she needed. Plus, it would put them both in danger.
But it was so fucking tempting just to sneak his way into her room, to pull those blankets down and spread her legs. To take a glimpse of that pretty pussy.
Joder. Fuck.
He moved his hand faster. He was so fucking close. Grasping hold of his balls, he squeezed them, relishing the bite of pain.
In his fantasy, she’d let out a quiet murmur, maybe wake up and smile at him.
Then she’d submit and let him do whatever the fuck he wanted.
He groaned as he came, his movements slowing, as he took deep breaths to slow his rapid heartbeat.
What the hell was this girl doing to him?
16
Cat was on her last fingernail.
The others had all been attacked until she’d nibbled them down to the tip of her finger.
A few had started bleeding, and they hurt something awful. She added that to her list of complaints.
This was so bad.
So. Bad.
Her friends would expect to hear from her today. If they didn’t, they might start worrying. And she had yet to see Alejandro. She glanced out the window. It was early morning.
Two nights of no sleep. Well, she’d fallen asleep a few times, only to come awake with a start.
She just couldn’t sleep without Snuggly or Roger.
A whimper threatened to work its way up from her throat. Was he trying to slowly torture her?
Lack of sleep and food was a sure-fire way to do that.
Was it really too much to ask for some bread and butter? She’d asked Bernie for some yesterday, but he’d just huffed and brought her some awful concoction he’d called lamb’s fry.
It had smelled so bad she’d thought she was going to throw up. So she’d had to stash it in the bathroom. And then it had taken him three hours to return and get the tray, and by then, she’d come close to peeing her pants.
Well, if she had pants, that is.
If Alejandro wanted to torture some answers out of her . . . well, another day of Bernie’s so-called cooking and she’d be telling him everything he wanted to know.
And more.
She studied her toe. At least the throbbing had stopped. It was a bit swollen and a wicked bruise was forming.
When was Alejandro coming to get her?
And what had she done to deserve this?
Alejandro walked into the kitchen. He’d slept surprisingly well. He never usually slept past five, but it was seven before he’d woken up.
“Morning, Bernard,” he said as he walked into the kitchen to find the other man spooning something awful-looking out of a pot and into a bowl.
“Ah, Mr. De Leon.” The butler appeared slightly aghast at having him in the kitchen. “I can bring coffee and breakfast into the dining room for you. I’ll have it ready soon.”