Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 88305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“I don’t know, oh, let me think, maybe because it would be? We’re college kids, Sebastian, and we’re not even in a relationship.”
“We are. You just refuse to admit it and what great parents we’d make, Tsundere.”
“This isn’t the time to joke around! A child out of wedlock would cause a political scandal in your family.”
“I couldn’t give two fucks about that.”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
“That’s the difference between us, Naomi. My focus is solely on you and me, but your attention is scattered elsewhere.”
“You…really wouldn’t care if I conceived.” It’s not a question, because I see his answer loud and clear in his relaxed features.
“I wouldn’t make it a fucking issue like you’re doing, but now that you’ve put it in my head, I’m curious to see you…”
“Don’t even think about it. I’m on birth control shots.”
His face turns blank, as if he’s disappointed. “Then what was the whole drama for?”
“Condoms!”
“Yeah, no. I don’t like them with you.”
“You could’ve given me something, considering all the girls you’ve fucked.”
“I’ve never fucked anyone without protection.”
I swallow. “No one?”
“No one but you, and I’m keeping it that way,” he says it as if it’s an established fact he doesn’t want to argue. “As for my medical record, I’ll send you the one from the physical I had before school started. It says I’m healthy and in my prime.”
“Fucked up, too,” I mutter.
“That makes two of us, baby. I like hurting you and you love being hurt.”
“Why?” I murmur.
“Why what?”
“Why do you like hurting me?”
“Because when I do, you fight, and subduing you alleviates my need for violence.”
“Even when I tell you no and beg you to stop?”
“Especially then.” His voice doesn’t change, but it’s like his words are stroking a dark corner of my chest.
Maybe talking about it wasn’t the best idea after all. At the moment, I don’t have the stamina to bare myself or to entertain the buried memories that are attempting to puncture the surface.
“What about you?” he asks.
“What about me?”
“You like it when I’m rough. You come harder and your pussy feels scared and in need of more.”
My cheeks burn. “Stop it.”
“You wanted to talk. We’re talking.”
“I take it back.” I turn to my car. “I’m tired.”
He grabs me by the wrist. “Not so fast, Tsundere. You don’t get to run away.”
“From what?”
“From facing the reason you’re like this.”
“Who told you there’s a reason?”
“I wasn’t sure before, but the way your pulse quickened beneath my fingers just now proves I’m right.”
I pull my hand free. The manipulative jerk. “I…don’t want to talk about it.”
“Yet.”
“Ever.”
“You will eventually tell me.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because, in return, I’ll tell you my reasons.” He leans in and wraps a hand around my throat, slowly stroking the pulse point. “Until you’re ready to go down that road, you’re mine to destroy.”
22
Akira
Dear Yuki-Onna.
What you’re doing is completely fine. There’s a thing called rape fantasy and it’s completely healthy.
I searched it and the psychology reports say it’s the woman’s way to gain control and surrender. It’s also related to masochism, wide imagination, and a broad range of BDSM.
It can also be something someone with sexual trauma is interested in because it gives them control over a situation similar to one from their past where they couldn’t.
So it’s completely healthy. You should do what makes you happy.
Is that what you hoped I’d write back? Is that what you had in mind when you sat down and wrote me your version of a twisted sob story?
I don’t even know what you were trying to accomplish when you said that. Just what on earth are you thinking? You and whoever is indulging in this sick arrangement are perverted.
And spare me the bullshit of how this isn’t about you or that this is a hypothetical situation. I’ve known you for three years and you can’t lie for shit.
I’ve been meaning to confront you about your issues for a while, but I might as well do it now. It’s long overdue.
When you said you have friends, I call bullshit. It’s simple really and doesn’t take a lot of mental work to figure it out. If you had any friends, you wouldn’t be talking to some random stranger from the other side of the globe. You’re lonely and it’s not even cute or quirky. It’s your choice, so stick with it and stop bleeding my ears (or more accurately, my eyes) with nonsense about how people don’t understand you.
Do you even understand people? Yeah, you don’t. Because you don’t care enough about anyone other than yourself.
Here are some facts, Naomi. You’re selfish. I don’t know what happened to make you that way or if it just runs in your genes, but you have issues.
Every time you write to me, all you do is talk about yourself and think you’re funny because you’re naturally sarcastic about everything—yourself included.