Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you I’m straight,” he insists, which makes me chuckle.
“As I told you before, I don’t really care either way. It changes nothing.”
He grits his teeth and lurches forward, only hurting his wrists and ankles as he gnashes his teeth like he’s trying to take a bite out of me.
“Fuck, you’re gonna be fun.” I grab hold of his cock, stroking, enjoying the way he fills my grip.
“It’s a dick. That’s what it does when it’s played with.”
I step closer, and he makes a go for a bite, nipping at my chin before I have a chance to grab him by his hair with my free hand, tugging his head back sharply.
“Fuuuck,” he groans, his face tense as he endures the pain.
“One thing you should know…if we’re gonna make this work, I won’t tolerate disobedience.”
Keeping his hair and cock firmly in my grip, I move closer still, until his lips are millimeters from mine. I run my tongue up his lips, curious to see if he’ll risk another move or take the violation.
Logan takes it, which makes me smile nearly as much as the taste of his delicious flesh.
“Mmmm…someone enjoyed tequila earlier tonight.”
He pulls away once again.
“Don’t keep pretending you don’t want this,” I tell him.
“Who’s pretending?”
“Your actions say one thing, but you think I didn’t notice how you turned into a rock after I licked you?”
He thrashes about, this time wilder than before. With how furious he is, I figure he’s liable to tear his hair from his scalp, but it’s his to tear loose if he chooses. I tighten my hold, pulling him to my face. “Be nice, Logan,” I warn. “It’s not my fault you’re getting hard when I’m being rough.”
“You don’t seem to care whether it’s even something I want.”
“Maybe you should tell me it’s not something you want.”
“Would it matter if I did?”
“Not sure I’ll know the answer until you tell me you don’t like it,” I say, stroking his shaft, uncertain myself whether him saying no would be enough to deter me. Maybe that makes me a monster, but isn’t that what I am?
“I don’t think it matters,” he insists.
We stare each other down, and I can’t help but smile. “At least now I know you’ll be able to consummate the relationship on our wedding night.”
“There’s not gonna be any consummating because there’s not gonna be a fucking wedding. How many times do I need to say that to get it through that thick skull of yours?”
“Thick?” I give him a firm squeeze. “Yeah, that’s the word for it.” At his glare, I release him. “I’ve teased you enough.”
Something wicked moves through me—the sadism my brothers and I inherited by blood. The fucked-up logic that makes our family not just criminals, but fucking monsters. I retrieve the contract, displaying it for him once again. “I’ll give you a choice: you have one opportunity to end this agreement, and I will burn it right here and now. But if you choose not to, that means you consent to being my wife.”
“It would be husband,” he clarifies.
“Technically, the contract says you would be my wife. I would be your husband.”
“So it’s hardly a valid contract. Doesn’t that make it null and void?”
“It means we have antiquated documents based on a different time, and again, you can choose to invalidate it. I’m giving you that option. Isn’t that generous of me? Doesn’t that make me good husband material?”
He eyes me suspiciously. “And what’s the cost of that?”
Wise of him to ask because in our families, nothing comes for free.
“You already know the answer. The end of the agreement means the end of our protections for the Wildes. They just…stop. And I guess all those debts my family is paying off, just stop too.”
He huffs. There it is—a man who understands the obligations to his family. Yes, this man will make a good wife for me.
His gaze wanders.
“If you can so easily cancel this, then the Wildes must be in a much better place than I thought.”
He gulps. “Maybe I can see if I can come up with the money,” he says, which makes me laugh because he must know I’m aware of their finances, and that they aren’t magically going to earn enough to make up for all the debt their father accrued.
“I don’t imagine that’s why you need to consider this, Logan. But I’m a decent man, so I can give you time to come to terms with being my wife—”
“Husband.”
“Wife,” I emphasize, earning another glare.
I do love power, especially the power I have over him right now. There’s no denying that, and I perversely enjoy that this is like a hunter releasing a wounded animal so that he can stalk it, taking his time, eventually killing it all the same. Yes, I’m a monster, just like my father. There’s no changing that.