Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 77841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
I don’t jolt up and look at him like I normally do. I don’t watch him cross the room like I know he expects. I don’t try to anticipate his next move or wonder what’s going to happen. He didn’t give me what I wanted earlier and I refuse to give what he wants now.
“Raya,” he snaps. Chills cover my arm but I still ignore him when he calls out again. I move down. There are only so many buttons I can push with this man before it becomes a danger to myself. I’m not willing, able, or ready to test those boundaries. But a little bit more attitude doesn’t hurt.
I turn over, ready to give him a piece of my mind, but then I freeze when I see what’s in his hand. The collar and the chain were bad, and I was so grateful when it was removed. But I never imagined this. There was no part in my head that could have conjured this scenario.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I say softly, trying to swallow the lump that has instantly formed in my throat. He’s gripping a black dildo in his right hand as if it’s an extension of himself. I open my mouth to argue in defiance, but mostly because of the way my body responds to even the idea of it. I should be terrified. I should be scared. I should run across the room and refuse. I don’t feel any of that staring at the thing. A hint of disappointment settles low in my stomach because I’ve seen the man standing in front of me naked more than I’ve seen him clothed. It’s easy to compare his size and the size of the toy in his hand because they're nearly side by side. It looks shorter, narrower, and I’m left wondering why he didn’t buy a closer replica to his own anatomy.
“Uncover yourself, Raya,” he commands but I can’t obey. Maybe I’m in shock. Maybe I don’t want him to see how I’m truly responding to it. He doesn’t give me another second to argue. He simply rips the cover and the sheet from the bed and leaves them in a pile on the floor. “Spread your legs,” is his next command.
I may actually die from heart failure with how hard the muscle is pounding in my chest right now. I hear the vibration of it in my ears. I feel it in that hollow spot at the base of my throat. I go to shake my head, to refuse his command, but then he steps closer to the bed. Unbidden, my legs fold but he doesn’t pounce on me. His steps stutter. As he reaches the end of the bed, his eyes lock on the apex of my thighs. I have to look away, another wash of shame covering my body. I touch myself in the shower. That’s the status quo. Sometimes, he strokes himself lying beside me in the bed, but he never tells me to touch myself then. The slickness of my desire is hidden in the shower. It washes away as quickly as it forms but there’s no denying it now.
“Please don’t make me do this,” I say, mostly because I feel like I have to. I need to fight this. Just reaching out for the toy and accepting that this is how it has to be is a whole other argument that I’m not willing and not capable of thinking about right now.
“You know the rules,” he says and maybe the reminder was needed.
Maybe I needed the threat that if I don’t do it, he’ll do it for me. Maybe it’s fear that causes a new wave of goosebumps to cover my entire body. Maybe I’m scared and that’s what makes my nipples harden to points.
His eyes graze over my body and it’s as if I’m an open book. If my legs weren’t spread for him, I still wouldn’t be able to deny it. He tosses the toy on the bed and it bounces, the tip of it brushing the back of my knee as if handing it to me would be getting too close. As if the simple brush of my fingers on his would be too much, as if it would be too hard for him to back away from.
“Do it,” he says, the two words low and menacing.
“I’ll need lube,” I tell him but then he looks from my face to between my legs. His gaze locks there for a long moment as heat creeps up into my cheeks. I hate him in this moment. I’ve hated him many times since he took me but this may be the worst.
He knows it’s a lie. He knows that my body is ready for that toy and I despise him for it. I despise the fact that I can’t keep secrets, that my body responds in ways that I don’t want it to. I don’t want to want this. I don’t want any of this.