Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 74487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
* * *
His eyes flick to the backyard, then return to me, and I understand. This is how he will punish me—putting me on display while he fucks me senseless. He will remind me of where I came from, treat me like the whore that I—that one night—was.
* * *
And he does. “Stand. Go to the window.”
* * *
He puts my palms to the glass, my breasts stiffening in the cool air, his hands taking a generous tour of them as he settles in behind me, the soft brush of his dress pants soon replaced by the bare touch of his thighs, the erect press of his cock.
* * *
“Lift your head.” He almost pants the words, his hands settling on my ass cheeks, and digging into the sore muscles there. I resist, my head hung, hating the craving of my body, the need that thrums through me. He leans forward, and he gathers my damp hair, fisting it and pulling back, lifting my head, my world blurring as the backyard comes into focus. On the far side of the pool, a landscaper stands, the hedge clippers hanging limply and forgotten in his hands. Our eyes meet, and he flushes, looking away, his hands tightening on the handles of the tool.
* * *
The shame fades, replaced by something unexpected—a fresh shot of arousal. I glance over, to the second man, one who walks along the edge of the pool deck, his head down, focused on the weed-eater in his hands. Any moment, he will realize what is happening. Any moment, he will look over and see me, bent forward and naked, being fucked by my—I gasp when Nathan pushes inside, the shove of penetration so hard that my breasts bounce from the impact. He releases my hair and there is the hard sting of his hand against my ass, his words spitting out hard and unforgiving, “If I want to ignore you, I will. And if I want to enjoy you, I will. You belong to me. You are mine.”
* * *
I claw against the glass, my breath catching as he slaps the area again, the slow drag of his cock outward conflicting with the violent push of it back inside.
* * *
“Nathan,” I gasp. I don’t even know what I’m trying to say. Don’t stop? More? Please? My mind is too scattered to form sentences and too confused with my arousal to know anything but that I am loving every motherfucking moment of this.
* * *
He reaches forward, his legs settling against mine, his body curving over the bend of mine as he slides his palms around my ribs and closes his hands around my breasts.
* * *
I moan from the sensation, the hard squeeze of his hands, the possessive growl that comes from his throat and vibrates against the back of my neck. “I love your fucking breasts,” he swears, kneading them together. “God, I fucking love them.”
* * *
I open my eyes at the admission, catching the wide-eyed gaze of the second landscaper, then Nathan is yanking me around, pulling my face to his, his lips rough against mine.
* * *
Are they still watching? Do they see when he pushes me to my knees, his hand firm on my head, my bare body before his clothed one? They probably watch when I take his cock deep down my throat, my body shaking from the effort, when my back contracts and I gag. They see when his legs flex, his head drops back, and he fills my throat with satisfaction.
* * *
He’s twisted. To do that to me, to come with the knowledge that we have an audience. I’m ashamed that I played along, that I didn’t twist out of his grip and run back to my room. I’m ashamed that, at the height of it, when I felt their eyes, and hated Nathan’s demands, I was aroused. Aching in my pussy, moisture dripping down my leg, aroused. I moaned when he spanked me. I begged for more as he fucked me. I looked into his eyes and all but asked for his cum.
* * *
Maybe I’m as twisted as he is.
CHAPTER 23
Our agreement states that sex will only be asked for once a day, today’s quota already filled. Nathan is a man of regulations, our agreement one that he follows to the letter. Still, I dress in expectation of his return from the office. It is silly, vain hopes that a simple clothing change will recapture some normalcy in a day that has already gone so wrong.
* * *
I hear the growl of Nathan’s car, and swallow, sitting before the vanity and running a brush over my hair. I pull at the top drawer, unveiling the black velvet, the delicate jewelry laid out in neat order. Gently running my fingers over the line of earrings, I select a pair of pearls. I hear the sound of the door and I look up, into the mirror.