Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
I gasp into our kiss. “I’m scared.”
He wipes the tears from my cheeks with his thumbs. “You’re brave.”
“Not enough.”
“You underestimate yourself.”
I moan when he hits a barrier deep inside. The trauma of tonight makes everything that’s churning in my chest spills out. “Will you love me?”
He smiles. For once, the gesture isn’t mocking or haughty, but kind. “Am I not loving you now?”
“You know what I mean.” I need more than making love. I need the love that bleeds red, the kind that flows from his heart.
A trace of regret softens his features. “I’ve given you all I’m capable of.”
At least this is the one thing he’s honest about. Maxime will never be able to love me. The pain is dazzling. It’s pure. It’s beautiful, because it’s born from love. It only hurts as deep as you feel.
Pressing his lips on my ear, he offers me a consolation. He dangles temptation. “Let me give you what I have.”
I’m not strong enough. I give in. I follow his lead, rolling my hips to his tempo when he pushes a hand between our bodies to find my clit. I snake my arms around his neck, holding him close to me. I take his pleasure, and give him mine. As I come around him, he comes inside, filling me with his essence for the first time, giving me all that he has.
I’m boneless in the aftermath, depleted by the emotional turmoil and extreme pleasure. Maxime adjusts our clothes, gathers me in his arms, and carries me upstairs. We shower together. When I try to wash away the blood from the nick I’ve left on his skin, he brushes my hand away. The old Maxime is back, unsettlingly intense and slightly distant.
In bed, he pulls me against his body.
Leaning my head on his shoulder, I trace the bumpy skin of his torso. “Why haven’t you come inside me before?”
He stares at the ceiling, gently brushing a palm over my arm, and says in his beautiful accent, “I didn’t want to ruin you.”
“Ruin me?” I frown. “Ruin me how?”
His voice is like a far-off star in the dark—elusive and intangible, untouchable like every other part of him. “You’re pure.”
“And now?” I stroke a hand down his stomach to trace the line of hair that starts under his navel. His choice of words makes me smile. “Am I impure?”
His tone is solemn. “Now you’re mine.”
I trail my palm farther south, cupping his erection. “I thought you said I was that already.”
“This is different.”
I squeeze gently. “How?”
“Now,” he says, still not meeting my eyes, “you’re my property.”
I still. The declaration slices through me. I didn’t think it was possible for him to hurt me more. I pull away from him with a wry smile. I guess that’s Maxime, honest to the point of cutting me to the bone.
“Thanks for telling me,” I say. “I thought it might’ve been something a little less coldhearted like enjoying the intimacy of such an act with your fuck toy.”
He removes his arm from around me and sits up. Soft light washes over the room when he flicks on the nightstand lamp. Flashing me with a view of his hard, naked body, he walks to the dressing room and closes the door. A short moment later, he exits dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt, carrying a sports bag.
My gaze is drawn to the bag. “What are you doing?”
He drops the bag on the floor and sits down next to me. “Spread your arms and legs.”
My breath catches. “What?”
His look is gentle, encouraging even. “You heard me.”
“Why?”
“I’m going to tie you up.”
My mouth goes dry. “Why?”
“Spread them, Zoe. I don’t want to use force with you after what happened tonight.”
Fear snakes up my spine. “Are you going to hurt me?”
“I’ll never hurt you.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “I may frustrate you.”
“You’re into kink?” I ask, even if it shouldn’t surprise me. He’s virile, and he has a strong libido. He’s also depraved and lacks a moral compass. I bet he’s into worse than kink. “You’re not into torture, are you?”
His eyes tighten. “I’m not my brother.”
Wrong thing to say. His brother seems to be a trigger for his anger. Impatiently, he grips my wrist and lifts it above my head. I keep still because I don’t have a choice. I can’t fight him off. Doing so will only stimulate his excitement. Maxime loves it when I fight.
My pulse jumps when he takes four coils of rope from the bag. Everything inside me wants to resist, but I’m powerless as he binds me spread-eagled to the bed. It’s what he takes out of the bag next that makes me regret my surrender.
“What the hell is that?” I ask, staring at the purple vibrator mounted on a rubber sling and a silicone plug with a flat stopper.