Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 275(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 275(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
I gasp, chest rising with the force of my inhalation, pressing even more of my breast into his hand. My nipples are like rocks now, hard and eager, begging for his touch. “Roark…” I whisper.
“All these are just hints, though,” he says with mock sadness. “Unfortunately the only way I can be completely certain a woman wants me is if she’s wet.”
“Guilty,” I say, and then I clap a hand to my mouth when I realize I spoke out loud.
Roark barks a laugh, but his humor quickly melts into something more predatory--more intense. “You know I can’t just take your word for it. I’d need to be sure. Absolutely sure.”
Words fail me now, so I settle for gulping down the loudest swallow in the history of swallows.
“But it just so happens I was bringing you here to show you my getaway.” He gestures to the huge building behind me. “My home away from home. I refused to carry servants to keep the place clean though, so it gets a little dusty at times. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
I nod quickly. My throat is still so tight I can barely breathe. I look down, realizing his hand is still cupping my breast. “Are you going to…” I ask.
He flashes his white teeth. “Let go of your breast?”
“Yes,” I say. “Not that you have to, I was just…” I clear my throat, looking away with freshly red cheeks.
“I suppose I’ll need to let go long enough to get you inside and down to my play room.”
“Your play room?” I ask, feeling a little confused. “Like with an Xbox?”
He throws his head back and laughs again. “Like with ropes, whips, and lots of leather.”
My throat closes up again but my pussy pulses with need and heat. I didn’t even remotely expect this when I woke up today, but if I had, I don’t think I would’ve been able to sleep. My life has been a blur since I’ve come here, and since I’ve met Roark, it has been a blur punctuated with the moments we’re together. It feels like all I do is wait for those moments--hope for them. It makes me feel dirty to want what he intends to do to me, like I’m one of those freaky girls you see walking around with collars on or something. I never understood why they would want to do that, and maybe I still don’t understand it. I just know I want it.
Roark takes his hand from my breast and uses it to guide me inside, through the main doors and past the beautifully decorated foyer and living spaces. He takes me to what looks like an office with a huge bookshelf dominating the far wall. He pauses in front of the shelf and scratches his chin thoughtfully before he seems to remember what book he wanted. As soon as he tilts the book outward, there’s a sudden grinding of stones from deep within the walls. I think I’m seeing things at first until I realize the bookshelf is retracting into the wall by some unseen mechanism. Roark steps into the darkness beyond and flips a switch, casting light on a large, attractive room filled with tools and devices that make it look a lot like the palace dungeon might if it had a tasteful makeover.
“Wow,” I say.
“Yeah,” says Roark. “I know what you’re probably thinking. You’re wondering how many women I’ve done this with before if I have something like this in my house. Believe it or not though, I’ve never used this. I bought this place as it is, and the owner already had this room here--a man after my own heart, I suppose. I had it redecorated and replaced all the equipment for sanitary reasons, but I don’t think I ever intended to use it--not until I met you.”
“So the things we did together… You really don’t normally do that kind of thing with women? I thought before you were just saying that as a line to make me feel special.”
“Not at all,” he says. “Might explain why I never had the interest some men have in women. Then again, maybe I was just waiting for the right one to come along so we could experience it together.”
My skin tingles. I want to believe him. The idea that a man like this could really be exploring such an intimate part of his sexuality with me for the first time makes my heart lurch. It seems too good to be true. I'm just me. Simple, plain, me. And somewhere beneath it all I still feel like this is an elaborate prank, like a TV crew is still going to pop out at some point. But here he is--Prince Roark--standing in front of me. Flesh and blood, and my God is his flesh sublime.