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)
I flinch at his words. Sex is so openly discussed in our society, yet they don’t want us to have it. It’s like dangling a feast in front of a starving man. Most fathers in the world would never mention the word sex to their daughters. Yet my father is going to watch another man fuck me for my first time. “I don’t understand what that means,” I say honestly. “But I assure you, she’s wrong.”
“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”
I swallow nervously. I’ve done my research, and I may not bleed my first time for several reasons. Like when I was twelve and spent my summer away at horse camp. Nonintercourse trauma is a thing. I’ve read up on it before.
“You may go.” He drops his eyes to his computer, dismissing me.
I turn around to leave and see Dean open the door for me. Of course, he didn’t leave when my mother did. I softly thank him for holding it open. Once in the hallway, I run to the grand foyer and rush up the stairs into my room. I’m going to grab a few things and head to my house for the week. I’ve had about enough of my mother for the day. She’ll be watching me like a hawk now.
My black curtains are closed, so it’s giving the illusion it’s nighttime. I make my way to my nightstand and flip on the small lamp. Seeing a box sitting on my bed below my pillow makes me frown.
I untie the white lace and remove the lid. Pulling back the tissue paper, I find a folded piece of paper. I open it up.
I vow.
You vow.
We vow.
Six words and fifteen letters that everyone in my world knows by heart. The vows we must take in order to give us purpose. They are what a chosen must speak to her Lord. Some even say it in their vows for marriage. It is an oath, a promise to serve.
My hands shake, and I drop the letter to pull back the black tissue paper. Inside the box sits pieces of leather of various lengths and widths.
Two are longer and wider than the other two. There’s a fifth one thinner in width with a silver ring in the middle.
A collar.
I’ll be a Lord's pet.
Something to be used and played with. The thought has my breath hitching and my pulse racing.
A light turns on, illuminating the room, and I jump back with a scream when I see a man sitting on the small couch by my bay windows.
He’s leaning back into the cushions, arms fanned across the top, legs spread wide. He’s dressed in dark jeans, a black T-shirt, and a Lords mask—white with gray lines on it that resembles cracks. The eyes and lips are black as if a bottomless pit of darkness.
I place my hand on my pounding chest and take a step back from the side of my bed as he gets up and walks toward me. He’s in no rush, and I swallow nervously. I turn to face him as he rounds the end of the bed. When I step back, my ass hits my nightstand, and I whimper.
Coming to a stop, he stands silently in front of me. My heart hammers in my chest as my pussy clenches. My breathing fills the room. I’m terrified and turned on at the same time. I’ve felt this way while watching scary movies, but to experience it firsthand is like nothing I’ve ever known.
He just stands there, and I can feel his eyes on me. I shuffle on my feet in the silence, wondering who it is and what he’s thinking.
Slowly, I reach my hands up and quickly pull them down. When he makes no move to stop me, I do it again. I lick my lips, and my fingers touch the tip of the mask on the chin and start to push it up.
A part of me hopes he stops me. I like surprises. The unknown. Another part is terrified that it’s not Saint. And if so, I’m going to cry. Don’t get me wrong, I love Haidyn and Kashton, but Saint is it for me.
Taking in a shaky breath, I push it up. The mask pops off his head and falls to the floor, and I look into a set of bright green eyes. I’ve seen them a million times, but they’ve never looked like this. Hungry. Forbidden.
“Saint.” I manage to whisper his name, and a whimper escapes my parted lips when his knuckles touch my face.
“Sweetheart.” He smiles down at me.
My thighs clench. This has to be a dream. “You’re my…” I swallow. “I’m your chosen?”
“You’re mine.” He nods once, his eyes roaming my face.
I look over at my bed, and his hand drops from my face. “Are these from you?”