Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Once everything was settled and I could officially work from home, I would spend every spare moment inside her, seducing her deeper into my grasp, and molding her into the perfect partner for our new life together.
"I have a few things to wrap up before dinner," I told her, watching as she finally looked up, her gaze catching mine. She didn’t say anything for a moment, but I could tell something was stirring behind those beautiful eyes of hers.
I couldn’t tell if it was defiance or something else entirely, but I enjoyed watching her internal struggle all the same.
"Can I take a shower?" she asked softly, her voice barely breaking the silence.
I stared at her for a beat too long. Does she really think she needs to ask? "You don’t have to get permission for that. This is your home," I replied, amused.
She nodded, her movements slow and uncertain as she turned to shuffle off. I knew she was sore from being fucked against the altar, but I wasn’t done with her yet. Before she could take more than a step, I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her back against me, catching her off guard. I tilted her chin up, pressing my lips against hers, savoring the way her body tensed, and then relaxed into mine.
My obsession with her was bordering addictive, and that in itself was a thrilling addiction.
No woman had ever had this effect on me, and I had known countless women. Disciplined, obedient, eager to please women.
Lolita was different. She was fire and resistance wrapped in beauty. She was in my blood, and I had no intention of ever letting her slip through my fingers. When I pulled away, her lips were slightly parted, her breath uneven. I so badly wanted to fuck her again right then—spend all night buried in that perfect fucking pussy of hers and claim her once more as mine. I wanted to carve my familial blade deeper into her soft, supple flesh until every inch of her bore my name and crest.
But no, I had to be the better man, the one who would control his urges and play this game of desire slowly, exquisitely. She’d come to love me—I wasn’t giving her a choice. She was already on her way.
"Go take your shower," I told her, my voice low and firm.
Watching her turn and walk away, my lips curved into a subtle smile. It was so nice having her home. As soon as she disappeared upstairs, I headed toward the kitchen. I needed a drink—something to unwind the sharp edge of adrenaline that still pulsed in my veins.
There was work to be done, but for now, I wanted to savor the mess of her that lingered on my skin. I didn't mind it, not one bit. It reminded me of her surrender, her submission, and how deep our connection was becoming. I poured myself a glass of bourbon, the amber liquid glinting under the low light of the kitchen, and took a slow sip. The burn as it slid down my throat was welcome, grounding me.
I needed more than just the drink.
I needed to see her.
Glass in hand, I made my way upstairs to my office. There was still business to wrap up before dinner.
We needed to talk—about her, about us, and about everything she was still resisting and how she’d spent the day exploring our home.
Once inside my office, I shut the door behind me with a quiet click. The first thing I did was power on the large monitor on the wall, the glow from the screen illuminating the room. I crossed to the desk and unlocked the drawer where I kept my laptop, booting it up with a sense of anticipation building inside me.
It didn’t take long to pull up the estate’s surveillance feed. The house, the grounds— every inch was covered, as it should be. I zoomed in on one particular camera, the one placed inside our bathroom.
Lolita.
She had just stepped into the shower.
The sight of her, even through the screen stirred something deep inside me. Vulnerable, unguarded, the water cascading over her bare skin—I felt my cock twitch, hardening with the relentless need for her.
It didn’t matter that I’d just fucked her. This need never waned. It went beyond the physical. I needed her on every level—body, mind, and soul. Every part of her was bound to me, fused together until there was no distinction between who she had been and who she would become under my dominion. That was the ultimate goal. It wasn’t about the carnal pleasure, though that was undeniable. It was about control. It was about devotion.
She had to become one with me in every way that mattered. In the tenets of Impío, we believed in the sanctity of power and submission. The flesh was just a vessel for deeper connection, a way to bend the will, to shape it. It was written in the oldest doctrines—her role was to serve, to yield completely to the chosen Dominus Carnalis. I was her Carnalis. And she would learn to give in willingly. Her resistance only made it sweeter. The fight she gave, those small bursts of defiance, would be burned away like impurities in a fire.