Total pages in book: 214
Estimated words: 199879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 999(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 666(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 999(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 666(@300wpm)
My stomach drops at his words, and he sees it because the smile he gives me raises the hairs on the back of my neck.
The elevator dings as it comes to a stop, and he spins around to walk off. I follow him slowly, my feet heavy. His words getting to me more than they should. Carnage is a big place, a city of its own, and I have to remind myself that the Carnage I left behind might not be the Carnage that it is today. It was evil then, and I’m sure it’s even more so now.
He stops in front of a door and pushes it open, glaring at me. I walk into the room, and my pulse begins to race as I see Saint sitting behind a large black wooden desk. He doesn’t even bother looking up. He’s bent over, a pen in one hand, his cell to his ear.
The man who delivered me clears his throat, and I turn around to see him walk out, shutting the door. I don’t miss the fact that he’s got his broken hand behind his back. He obviously doesn’t want Saint or Kashton asking any questions. Then he’d have to explain what he did to me.
I hope he runs to his room and cries like a baby.
When I turn back to face the office, my breath catches when I see Saint standing in front of me. He holds out his right fist, and I stare at it. His left hand reaches out, grabs mine, and holds open my hand as he opens his to drop a ponytail into it.
“Put your hair up. And none of that messy, half-ass shit. I want it all out of your face,” he commands, giving me his back. He’s clearly not going to acknowledge that he fucked me last night and left me unsatisfied. It’s just another way to throw around his power. He wants me crawling on my hands and knees, begging for release. We both know that I have no shame when it comes to getting off.
Licking my lips nervously, I lean over, running my hands through my thick hair to gather it into a high pony and then tie it up tight. When I return upright to my full height, Saint now stands by his desk at the other end of the office. He nods his head once as if I asked if it was good enough.
“Strip,” he commands, and my heart leaps with excitement and fear. Why am I here? What is he going to make me do?
My eyes dart around to take in the room. A set of floor-to-ceiling windows runs the length of the wall behind his desk. The white curtains are pulled open and tied back to show off the woods that surround the city. It’s a gloomy day here in Pennsylvania. I’ve missed the trees, the rain, the cold winters. Everything in Las Vegas was always hot.
“Ashtyn,” he snaps, making me jump.
My fingers fumble to undo the sash, but I get it done. I shrug the soft material off my shoulders, and it falls to the floor at my feet. My hands go to my side, refusing to hide myself but also not knowing what to do with them. I won’t go back in time and be that innocent woman in her room who hid herself from him.
Saint moves to stand in front of a large mirror framed in black wood. He turns and opens a drawer in his desk and tosses some rope on top of the surface.
My heart races as I try to slow my breathing because the office is silent.
“Come over here.” Just the sound of his voice makes me whimper, and I hear Kashton chuckle from his desk. He hasn’t even looked up once. He’s too busy reading something on his cell, leaning back in his chair, combat boots propped up on his desk.
My feet are heavy, but I manage to get over to him without tripping. Once I stop, he grabs my upper arm and pulls me to stand in front of the mirror. He stands behind me, and I watch him in the glass. He picks up the rope, and my breathing accelerates.
He doubles the rope and then reaches over my head, bringing it around my upper chest and arms. The rough material sits on top of my breasts. He brings it behind me, and the rope pulls against my skin as he tightens it. I can’t see what he’s doing with it, but I know he’s tying it off when I feel the knot on my upper back.
“Hands behind your back and interlock your fingers,” he orders.
His commands, his words, the voice…I’ve dreamed of him every night since I escaped this place. Careful what you wish for, ladies. Sometimes the devil hears you and delivers exactly what you want, knowing it will be the last thing you ever get.