Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 60904 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60904 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
My fingers twitch towards my own phone again, the temptation to read along with her almost maddening—I have an app installed that allows me to see all of her activities in real time.
But I can’t risk her seeing the glow from her closet when the rest of the lights are off. All I can do is take shallow breaths and guess what wicked things she might be reading about.
She holds the phone in one hand, and her other dips beneath the duvet. Her soft gasp of desire lets me know the moment she brushes her clit.
“Bones…”
She moans my fake name, and I’m tormented by lust and resentment. The fact that she’s thinking of me is hot enough to make my balls ache, but I hate that she doesn’t say my real name.
I press my hand to my hard cock through my jeans, as though I can shove my insistent desire away.
Her back arches, and she sets the phone down. I can’t see her anymore, but her moans are getting louder, interspersed by soft, rapid pants.
“Bones, Bones, Bones…”
It’s a litany, a perverted prayer.
That’s right, kitten. I’m your god.
I bite my tongue to hold in the possessive words.
Pleasure gathers at the base of my spine, and heat flares in my cheeks.
No.
I can’t lose control. The first time I come with Karolina in person can’t be in my pants.
But all the pent-up lust and denial that’ve been building since the hunt rise like an encroaching tidal wave. I’ve waited for her for years—the thought of being intimate with another woman makes my skin crawl.
My murderous, possessive impulses have ensured that my Karolina has remained untouched and virginal, but so am I.
So, when she cries out her release, I’m dragged to completion against my will.
Hot cum that should be spilling inside her is wasted in my jeans, searing me with shame.
I bare my teeth like an enraged beast. Karolina will suffer for this before I give her another orgasm.
9
RAND
Four nights later, I watch through the hidden camera I set up in Karolina’s lounge and scowl as she lifts her bottle of fruity cider to her lips. I can practically taste the sweetness on my own from the kiss I can’t claim.
Her fate is already sealed: she’s mine, but I haven’t answered any of the messages she’s sent since the night I hid in her closet while she pleasured herself.
I don’t want to get in touch as Bones again. That phase of our relationship is over.
I want the real thing.
But now, she isn’t even trying to message Bones. She’s partying with the spoiled, naïve idiots from her MA course.
A dozen of them are packed into her tiny flat, spilling from the lounge into the kitchen because there’s not enough space for all of them.
I can’t deny the jealousy that’s a sour tang on the back of my tongue.
Her full focus should be on me.
I’m supposed to be her entire world. She’s supposed to be desperate for me.
But instead, she’s smiling at a blond boy who won’t be breathing much longer if he dares to move so much as an inch closer to her.
And when he makes her laugh, my entire body tenses with the need to throttle him.
His name is Rich Paulson, a wealthy kid who’s been handed everything in life, as far as I can tell. He barely earned his place on their MA course, and judging by the amount of time he spends watching porn online instead of studying, he’ll fail out before the year is through.
I’ve made sure to learn as much as possible about all of the new people in her life now that she’s moved to York—assessing for possible threats.
And possible distractions.
I hadn’t expected her to be bold enough to host a fucking party, and I definitely hadn’t seen baby-faced Rich as a threat to my ownership.
“My dad’s a dairy farmer,” he’s telling Karolina, his voice slurring slightly. “My family has owned land for generations. I’ll inherit someday, but I don’t actually work the farm. I’m more like a caretaker for the estate.”
She eases back a bit at his boast.
Karolina isn’t impressed by wealth, and she definitely doesn’t care for people who brag about theirs.
“Did you like growing up in the countryside?” she asks, polite despite not caring for his attitude.
Why is she wasting her time with him when she could be talking to me?
I barely hear his inane response through the sound of my own heated blood pounding in my ears.
My ire is barely cooled when Amala joins their conversation, chatting animatedly about her summer visit to her extended family in India.
It’s so boring. Mundane.
But Karolina seems content to sip her cider and listen to them, even though she doesn’t share much about herself other than where she went to undergrad in America.
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Amala says to her. “Are you okay, Lena? Professor Hirst was so mean to you during our first lecture. I would’ve cried.”