Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 109674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
He watched my fingers as they traced the scar gently. “I have dozens of scars.”
“I remember each of them, but this is new.”
I kept stroking the line, mesmerized by how smooth it felt. “A knife meant to spill my bowels like my father’s,” Nestore murmured.
“You killed the person who did this.”
“Eventually.”
I swallowed, then looked down at my hand. It had moved lower, and my fingertips were now stroking the edge of his pubic hair. His length slowly filled with blood, becoming even bigger. My belly clenched, remembering the pain, remembering the pleasure. My clit pulsed, remembering my release.
Nestore grasped my hand, his expression reflecting a dark need that amplified my anxiety and my lust. “I still need to claim a few more firsts, but Remo doesn’t like to wait.” He stepped back with a pained expression.
“A few more?” I echoed, confused.
A dark smile curled his lips. His thumb brushed my lips at the same time as his other hand squeezed my ass cheek.
I swallowed hard. Nestore backed away and moved into the bathroom.
The idea of having Nestore in my mouth was tantalizing, but in my back entrance? Not so much.
Nestore emerged fifteen minutes later, dressed in black pants and his fur coat.
“We have to hurry.”
I quickly showered, then got ready and put on one of the white dresses Nestore had ordered for me. A car was waiting in the driveway when Nestore led me outside by the hand.
The moment we slid into the back seat, the driver hit the gas.
I slanted a look at his bare chest. “Why the fur?”
“People need something to occupy their idle minds. If they’re busy with my current extravagancies, they won’t linger in the past.”
It made sense. Nestore had created a figure that people could fear and admire, and he was playing his part masterfully. Or was it really played?
“Is fur kinder on your scars?” I asked in a low whisper so the driver wouldn’t hear me.
Nestore nodded once, a vulnerable admittance that gave me hope.
“I used to love wool and even linen, but I can’t stand the feeling of it on my back.” My father’s belting had left a few scars on my skin there, and they were very sensitive to certain fabrics. “I prefer silk or smooth cotton.”
Nestore reached for a strand of my hair and let it glide over his fingers. “If you want to see a scar specialist for lasering, money won’t ever be an issue. Whatever I own is yours.”
My heart swelled. I swallowed, then smiled softly. “I’ll carry my scars as you do yours. They are part of my past, and I won’t hide them.”
We arrived in front of a square building with a neon sign featuring Medusa and the name Medusa written above it.
“A strange name for a sex club,” I mused.
Nestore released my hair and smirked. “I found it fitting.” He slid out of the car, then held out his hand for me. I took it and allowed him to pull me to my feet. He didn’t release my hand as he led me toward the entrance and past two massive bouncers who stepped back respectfully as we strode through the lobby, then continued into a long room without windows. A few men were scattered around the room, mesmerized by actions on a platform.
My mouth fell open in shock. Two women lay on a rotating bed in the middle of the club. One of them lay on top of the other, and they had their heads between each other’s legs, pleasuring each other with their tongues and mouths. I had never seen other people have sex, much less two women. They cast seductive looks at the men at the surrounding tables as if to invite them to join—a spectacle.
Nestore stopped beside the platform. His neutral expression was disinterested, though I wondered if any man could remain cool watching a sight like this. Even I would probably have felt hot and bothered if I didn’t know none of these women truly enjoyed themselves. It was their job and not always voluntary.
“I spent many hours watching them to learn how exactly I would lick your pussy to make you beg for more,” Nestore mused.
My core heated, remembering how indulging Nestore’s mouth felt between my thighs, how well his tongue drove me up to unknown heights.
“You practiced with them?” I tried to sound flippant, but my chest burned with jealousy at the thought that Nestore had pleasured another woman like that. I still mourned that he had lost his firsts to someone else.
“No,” he said, his eyes almost bored, as he watched one of the women plunge two fingers into the pussy of the other, hovering above her face. “You are the first woman I pleased like that.”
I froze, filled with relief and surprise. So at least that first belonged to me. “Really?”