Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 78164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
The one who unleashed an unexpected fury upon me in bed.
Who pulled my hair to arch my back. Who gripped me by the throat as he shook my bones with pounding thrusts.
Worse, I was startled by how much I enjoyed it.
Cowed, obedient, feeling small in the shadow of his strength, I let him do as he would.
And liked it.
But I wasn’t sure if I liked who that made me. Abandoning his eyes to look over my burgeoning belly, I found the skin taut. He filled me too much. Cradling the pressure in a bid to distract myself, I subtly arched my aching spine. Pops zipped up from sacrum to neck, my resulting sigh one of relief.
General Cyderial watched me do so with clear pleasure in his lingering gaze—pleasure of the dark variety. Which hinted at how truly debased his longings might be.
A powerful part of him would have known absolute joy to lock me away and play with me at his whim. To overpower me and bend me to his will, feed me what he wished, touch me when he wanted. Have me all to himself.
That energy was a very real adversary in the room.
He had been so tense the previous day just walking me out the door. Would it be such a struggle for him each time? Would he eventually tire of battling with himself and choose the easier path?
Would I even remember my name if he bent me over and took what he wanted?
He’d filled me to the point of discomfort. Would he use that as an excuse to keep me in his home and compel me down his darker path?
The hairbrush was set aside, my gloating mate watching my every breath as he reached for the magic disk that would wind up my hair—hair that was his—and make me pretty.
Just as the merchant had shown him, he placed it in position and activated its program. Long wires began weaving my hair, exposing my naked spine.
Cyderial enjoyed watching that curtain of dark hair slowly unveil the flesh of my back.
Touching where he would with those large, warm hands, he kneaded the stiff muscles at my lower back, whispering, “Deep breath. Let me help you feel better.”
Bracing against the counter, I gasped and felt just how much relief he could give. His understanding of my anatomy, just where to dig in, where to soothe, was inexplicable. How many years, how many journals, had he studied for this very moment? I could only guess.
What knowledge might live in the fixated general’s head? What had ten years of obsession and the constant concern a female with the perfect song might be taken by another done to him?
Another far more satisfying ripple of pops tripped up my spine, tense muscles relaxing under his touch. A sigh followed as my eyes closed, while my bones felt as if they finally found their proper place.
Drawn back to the heat of his chest, he held me in his arms. Warm hands came to my front as he weighed the belly. There, he rubbed much more gently, soothing skin made shiny from the unaccustomed stretch.
A traveling touch drifted to my swollen breast, another between where I pressed my thighs shut against him.
“Let me help you relax, beloved. Just a little more comfort to soothe the sting.” Fingertips found my slit, little circles teasing where I was swollen.
There was no point in resisting when he was in such a mood, not over something he clearly believed was ultimately good for me. Submitting to his small request, my thighs parted just enough to grant him access.
Expecting softness, I reeled when he roughly pinched my nipple and dove several fingertips into my passage. Once inside, he hooked my pubic bone and roughly rubbed at a tender place that sent me right to my toes.
An instant, unexpected orgasm left the flesh of my stomach rippling around their burden. I watched the shape of my belly change in the mirror, eyes wide and mind astounded. Every muscle in my core went crazy, spasms stretching the muscles of my abdomen, contractions clenching at his hand. On instinct, I bore down against his plug, against his rough touch, with all my might and trembled as he gave me the strangest blend of pain-laced pleasure.
No matter how hard I squeezed, how much I writhed, the plug didn’t budge. Nor might I push out the aggressive fingers buried in my cunt. Throbbing, my nipple grew red, and the whole of my insides danced in a way that was beyond my control.
He bit atop the tendon that ran from my shoulder to my neck, and I screamed, climaxing harder than I thought I could bear.
He kept me like that, hanging from his fingers, working some bundle of nerves inside me, my poor nipple trapped in a rolling pinch, his teeth puncturing skin.