Total pages in book: 211
Estimated words: 201554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1008(@200wpm)___ 806(@250wpm)___ 672(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 201554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1008(@200wpm)___ 806(@250wpm)___ 672(@300wpm)
He yanks my pants down and in seconds they’re over my bare feet and I’m completely naked. His hands are all over me, and when he leans in, his lips at my ear, his hands on my breasts, my breath hitches in my throat. “You’re mine now, princess. All mine. You get that, right? There’s no turning back now.”
“I don’t want to turn back.”
“But will you regret this and me?”
“I regret you leaving. That was a bastard move.”
I feel him stiffen, and I don’t care. It was a bastard move. “Is that right?” He pinches my nipples as if punishing me for the truth, and I try to move my hands, but I’m trapped between that wall and his big body, the thick ridge of his erection at my backside.
He folds himself around me, one hand on my hip, the other on my breast. “You have me now, but you might regret it, because this bastard is going to own you before tonight is over.”
Chapter ten
Harper
This bastard is going to own you before tonight is over, Harper.
Those words, Eric’s words, are in the air between us, the implications of me against the wall and him at my back leaving no room to question his intent. He wants control. He has control. His hands go to my shoulders. “How do you feel about being owned?” he demands, and it’s clear we’re talking about a whole lot more than us, naked, tonight.
“They don’t own me,” I say. “They’ve never owned me.”
“You seem pretty damn owned to me, princess,” he says, squeezing my backside and then giving it a hard smack. I yelp at the unexpected sting that he squeezes away even as he steps to my side, caging my legs and cupping my sex. “But right now, you’re mine.”
“Because it turns you on to be the bastard that owns me?” I whisper, hating the way my hands are captive to this wall, wanting to touch him, wanting to hit him and kiss him and ten more things I haven’t even considered yet.
“I do believe it does,” he says. “Does it turn you on?” He slides fingers against the wet, slick heat of my body. “I do believe it does.” His lips go to my ear. “I’ll only punish you if you ignore my orders, but I promise to make it hurt so good.”
“Punish me?” I demand. “What does that even mean?” His finger slides inside me and I bite back a moan as he pulls back that finger.
“I can give,” he says, “and I can take away.”
My gaze meets his. “Two can play at that game, you do know that, right?”
He laughs, this low, sexy laugh that I feel in the clenching of my sex and the empty ache he’s created there. “We’ll see.” He rotates to stand behind me again. “Don’t move,” he orders, “or the next time I put my tongue on you, I won’t finish you.” With that threat, he steps away from me and I can feel the heat of his stare on my naked body, and the ache between my thighs has me clenching them together. There’s a shuffle of clothing and the tear of the condom wrapper, and that’s it. I can’t take it. I’m all for playing a sexy game with this man, but his reasons for all of this get to me. They really do.
I turn around and my mouth goes dry as I find him naked, rippling, long, lean muscle from head to toe, his cock jutted forward, and the condom is in place. He drags me to him, his erection pressing to my hip. “I told you not to move.”
“I’ve already had your mouth,” I say, not even sure where this daring in me is coming from, but it’s alive and well with this man.
His eyes spark with amber flecks but there is something more in his gaze, a knife of emotion that I feel like a cut. “Is that right?” he asks, his voice low, raspy, his mood as dark as a stormy night.
“Yes,” I say, and I can feel his bottled-up torment in every part of me and it strips away my fear of being hurt by Eric. I dare to say exactly what I feel. “I hate that you left that night. I’m glad you’re here now.”
His lashes lower and I have this sense that he doesn’t want me to read some emotion in his eyes before he looks at me again and says, “Me too, princess. Me too.”
Those words, a few small words, hold so much implication and they expand between us, stealing my breath. We stare at each other and what passes between us is almost too much, it confuses me. It calls to me. He calls to me and I want to know him. I want to understand him. In some ways, I already do and I believe he knows this. Which is exactly why my hand settles on top of the stunningly created jaguar on his arm, and I don’t miss the very Kingston-like blue eyes, or the fact that his animal is a symbol of the Competing car brand. “Is it a fuck you to Kingston Motors?”