Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 107652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
I shuddered, ridiculously turned on considering the subject matter.
“You don’t need much strength. You can cause enough damage for them to bleed out even if you don’t manage to kill them outright.” His body curved over mine, his hips pressing against my back again.
The quick hitch of his inhale made his lips brush my ear. The scent of him—clean and sharp, faintly citrus and that lingering bite of metal.
A recipe that shouldn’t affect me yet filled me with impossible longing.
His voice turned thick as he guided my hand and the dagger down the hollow of my throat, down and down, following the swell of my left breast.
The tip pressed against the fabric of my dress but didn’t puncture it. Didn’t do anything apart from deliver the softest, wickedest kiss, following the rapid rise and fall of my breath.
I turned hot. Dizzy. Achy.
Part fear, part pain, part something else that left me raw and trembly and very, very hungry.
My fingers squirmed beneath his, trying to get free. The knife thrummed between us, a conduit for all our desire.
“Stop,” I whispered, needing air, needing my heart back. “You’ve already shown me. Let me go.”
His hand twitched as if to obey but then his arm swept up the length of my body. His palm skated over my skin, deliberately, possessively cupping my breast.
I jolted in his hold.
My eyes snapped closed.
He grunted as if touching that part of me—straying past his rules never to touch a woman—physically hurt him.
The softest beep from the piece of metal on his chest. A hiss of air between his teeth as his pain magnified. But his hand didn’t loosen, it tightened. Kneading me as if he couldn’t stop himself.
“You want me to admit it?” he murmured against my ear. “Admit that I touched you here last night?” His thumb brushed over my nipple, slow and deliberate. “I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t touch you now. But if this all goes spectacularly wrong then...I don’t want to die without knowing what you feel like.” His hand flexed, possessive and hot. “Are you shaking because you’re afraid or...” His mouth brushed my ear again. “Because you’re as fucked up as I am?”
He was going to knock me unconscious again.
He was going to murder me with a—
“If you’re not going to talk, then I’m going to take what I want,” he groaned. “Your silence is my permission unless you say otherwise.”
A full body shudder volted through me as his hand dropped from my breast and trailed like fireworks down my body. Down and down. Lower and lower.
I arched on my tiptoes, pressing into him, giving him all my balance as my world turned shadowy and shivery and sinful.
I tried to speak.
To ask what he planned on doing, but I lost the ability of speech as his fingers landed over my core and gathered the fabric of my dress.
Each rock of his wrist as he bunched it higher and higher threatened to brush against the very place I needed, needed, needed.
I moaned as the heel of his palm pressed down, gathering the final hem and dipping his hand beneath.
“Fuck, you’re as hot as I am under here.” I didn’t recognise his voice anymore. Gruff and smoky, black as the devil.
I didn’t just tremble, I quaked.
I clutched the knife he forced me to hold—his hand still tight around mine, anchoring us together as he sucked in a breath. He brought my hand with his, wrapping his arm around me and binding me at the same time, the knife glinting in our grip.
His shoulder dipped down. He curled over me. A soft curse caressed my ear as he groaned, “I’d ask you to teach me what to do but...we’re running out of time.” Pressing his forehead to my temple, he added, “If we survive past today, we’ll practice.”
And then his hand cupped between my legs.
Firmly. Fiercely. Hot and heavy and claiming.
I convulsed.
His hips rocked into my back, grinding his arousal against me. “Fuck.”
His unnatural body heat soaked into me as a soft beep came from his chest. He staggered a little but spread his legs, binding me to him as if I could take away his pain.
My mouth dropped wide as his fingers feathered to my clit and pressed down.
Three of them. Flat and determined and strong. He rubbed me. Once, twice. His touch slipped a little lower, giving me the entire length of his fingers while the tips strayed mind-breakingly close to slipping inside me.
If only I wasn’t wearing underwear.
If only I’d known he’d choose today to break and—
“Oh God.” I clenched as he found that perfect, perfect spot.
He breathed heavily against my ear, not speaking, entirely focused on where his fingers were.
He rubbed me. Rhythmically. Punishingly.
All those days, all those weeks—I didn’t stand a chance.
I detonated.
The sharpest, quickest orgasm tore through my body, releasing in savagely clenching waves.