Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
When Ghost stuffed his finger inside me before he thrummed my clit.
When a dangerous smirk etches onto Ghost’s mouth, most likely in response to the unwilling curve of my knees, I press my thighs firmly together. He isn’t solely smiling about the heat I feel creeping across my cheeks. He’s hiding his grin about my mimicking ways.
When his tongue delves out to replenish his lips, mine copies.
When he rocks on his heels, I do the same.
I copy him because I am clueless as to what is happening inside me, and I’d rather he guide me through my confusion than anyone else in the room.
Is that wrong of me to admit?
He can be cruel and demoralizing, but he’s also sheltered me the past two weeks and ensured I’ve been fed and clothed. He’s treated me better than anyone has in the last eight years.
The woman’s husky moans spur me to look down, to take in the visual that doubles the heat in the room in under thirty seconds, but Ghost’s watch is far more gambling. He doesn’t take his eyes off me for a second, not even when the woman breaks into a long, ear-piercing segment of moans.
Our eye contact only ends when Annika bumps shoulders with me and asks, “Do you want to go or stay?”
When my eyes snap back to Ghost, my training to obey too extensive to ignore, I suck in a sharp breath. He’s no longer standing on the other side of the cube. He is nowhere to be seen.
“We should go,” I reply after swallowing to relieve my suddenly dry throat.
I have a feeling my existence is about to become even more complicated.
17
KATIE
As I scrub my face in the shower, my mind drifts between when Ghost had me pinned against his office door last week and the sensation that roared through me when our eyes locked and held through the sex cube tonight.
I’m clearly starved of affection because I’m confident the sensation I experienced both those times was similar if not identical. It was slightly stronger tonight because of the edge of forbidden associated with it.
We were also in a room with naked women stretched as far as the eye could see, but Ghost only had eyes for one woman.
Me.
The rush of warmth the knowledge caused between my legs as I left the cube shouldn’t have occurred. He’s mentioned the requirement for me to be the picture of innocence multiple times, so I shouldn’t be lusting over anyone, much less getting wet.
I fill my mouth with the torrent of water flowing out of the showerhead to stifle my screams of frustration. My thoughts the past few days are going to get me killed. They’ll stuff me into a body bag and dump me overboard without any concern that my family will never know what happened to me.
I can’t let that happen. I barely functioned during my first few weeks of captivity, wondering what Blaire was going through. I can’t let my family suffer the same fate. I must play by the rules and project the innocence I was purchased for.
I guess I better start that by clearing away the evidence of my not-so-shiny ways before anyone finds out.
Droplets of water roll down my recently shaved legs when I step out of the shower stall to gather up the panties I stripped off in a hurry. Even while living in appalling conditions, I’ve never once felt as dirty as I did when I slid my damp panties down my thighs tonight. They were clinging to my vagina and were marked with more wetness than the minute droplets of blood Ghost’s swiveling finger enticed.
I am ashamed to admit that I was turned on by his dominance that day.
Stockholm syndrome is real.
I am living proof of this.
“Where are you?” I murmur to no one when my hunt of the bathroom floor comes up empty. Ghost’s boxers and T-shirt he stripped out of this morning are there, and my sweatpants and white tee, but my panties are nowhere to be found.
My eyes dart from the tiled floor to the minute crack in the bathroom door when a grunt sounds through my ears. It is similar to the one the man released tonight when the blonde ground her pussy against his mouth but more guttural and controlled.
A thrilling jolt bolts through my body when the adjustment of my head unearths a riveting yet concerning visual. Ghost is standing at the foot of our bed. His pants are huddled around his ankles, and his erect cock is rocking back and forth between his fisted hand.
His strokes quicken when he peers at something on our bed. I can’t see who he’s watching, the angle is wrong, and no amount of neck manipulation will correct it, but it clearly arouses him because the bead on the end of his thick cock doubles the longer he stares.