Black Ops Series – Volume 1 Read Online Fiona Davenport

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic, Insta-Love, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 73515 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
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The shade of her skin darkened to crimson, deepening the color of her freckles, and I winked at her before turning my head back around and walking into the bathroom.

I started the water and looked around, growling when I realized how bare the room was. There hadn’t been time between meeting Audrey and stealing her to order a bunch of girly shit to make her more comfortable.

I’d put in an order while she was taking a bath. Some bubble bath...that inspired images of her naked body covered in suds dripping down her skin, slowly revealing all her secret places. Shaking my head to dispel the fantasy, I focused on finding her a towel. If I didn’t stop the direction of my thoughts, she’d never make it to the bath. Or better yet, she’d end up riding me, hot and wet, with the water splashing all around us as I fucked up into her hard and fast.

Get a fucking grip, Merrick. Right. I needed to think about something else. Food. Audrey needed food.

She timidly entered the room a few seconds later and glanced around with interest. “This place is amazing,” she observed with a tinge of awe in her tone. “You’d never know it looked like this from the outside.”

“That’s the point,” I replied with a wink. “Now drop the sheet, and I’ll help you into the bath.”

“I’m perfectly capable of getting into a bathtub by myself,” she snipped, holding the sheet tightly around her.

I rolled my eyes and closed the distance between us in two strides. “Put away your claws, kitten. I’m perfectly aware of how strong and independent you are,” I grunted as I ripped the sheet away with one hard yank. “But I’m sure you're stiff, as well as sore. I don’t want you to fall, and there’s nothing wrong with letting me help you.”

Without waiting to see if she would agree, I swept her into my arms and crossed over to the bathtub where I gently set her down in the water. A sigh escaped her lips, and the sound sent the last drops of blood in my brain straight to my already aching cock. Shit. I needed to leave. “Soak as long as you want. I’m going to make you some breakfast. If you finish before I come back, your bag is in the closet. You can join me in the kitchen or take a look around if you’d like.”

“I’m allowed to explore my gilded prison?” she asked dryly.

I glanced back to see her glaring at me and turned to face her, crossing my arms over my chest. “This isn’t your prison, Audrey,” I corrected. “It’s your home. And you can go wherever you want with the exception of my office.” I could see she was about to latch onto that statement and cut her off. “However, you can’t leave and return as you please”—she opened her mouth, and again, I kept going—“not because you’re my hostage, kitten. It’s for your safety.”

Her pretty green eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure I believe you.”

I shrugged and resumed walking to the door. “Believe me or not. It won’t change anything.” In the doorway, I paused and twisted my head to meet her pale green eyes. “I told you before, Audrey. You’re mine, and I’m never letting you go. And that means keeping you safe from anyone who tries to take you from me.” Without another word, or waiting for a response, I left and went down to the kitchen.

7

Merrick

Audrey wandered in just as I was loading a plate with French toast. She’d put on a T-shirt and a pair of clingy, black pants that left nothing to the imagination. I wholeheartedly approved of them as long as she never wore them outside the house. “Have a seat, kitten,” I told her, nodding at the kitchen table. It sat in a sunny alcove that also looked out over the valley. I’d made sure plenty of windows let a lot of light into the place so there was not even a single hint from the inside that this was a warehouse.

In order to do that, and keep the house impenetrable, the windows were bulletproof, with a polycarbonate glaze to make them even stronger. As Audrey took a seat in the sunshine and gazed outside with a pleased expression, I mentally patted myself on the back for preparing for her even before I knew she existed.

I set the plate of toast in front of her, then gathered the butter, syrup, and silverware, depositing those on the table as well. When I went to grab my own plate, I also poured her a glass of orange juice.

“If I’m not your hostage,” she started as she cut up her breakfast, “then I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if I called Grace to let her know I’m all right.” Her tone was nonchalant, but she was terrible at hiding her thoughts—something I loved about her—and it was easy to see that she thought she was testing me.


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