Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
I was a total dumbass for ever thinking “hands off” was the right choice. Hell no. This is Chandra.
“Screw no kissing,” I rumble, leaning in closer so that her breath stirs against my cheek when I whisper in her ear. “Be my babygirl?”
I can almost feel her visibly melt like butter. “Yes. Yes, please.”
I lean in and kiss her.
Chapter Twelve
Chandra
He keeps me so close to his side I’m almost glued to him, and if anyone had a doubt before now that I was his, that doubt’s vanished. He may as well tattoo it straight across my forehead and toss a collar around my neck. But the protective, possessive vibe he’s thrown around us is clear enough I don’t need a collar or any of the other outward signs that he owns me.
My first instinct was to fight it, but I love how possessive and jealous he is.
I want more than this, though, and I’m not sure yet what. A part of me has lain dormant, like a bud buried beneath the surface of the ground, and I’ve only just begun to feel the rays of sun that let me live. I want to stretch myself heavenward and soak that up, flourish as I was meant to, no longer held apart from what makes me whole.
He makes me whole.
I see now that when I was apart from him, I grew into who I was meant to be. He grew into who he was meant to me. We’re not strangers who just met each other. We haven’t changed. We’ve evolved. Grown.
And now… now that I’m with him again, I don’t ever want to let him go.
I want to sit by his feet and rest my head on his knees while he runs his hands through my hair and reads, or watches TV. I want to kneel by him and serve him, and feel his praise bask over me like sunlight breaking through clouds, warm and bright and nourishing. I want to get over myself, let him read my books that hold the words I draw from my soul and weave onto paper, a visible sign of who I am and what I’ve accomplished. I want to cook him dinner and wash his clothes and do all the domestic things my friends scorn because it would be for him.
Hell, I want to have his babies.
“Do you remember how we used to walk in the cemetery?” he asks. He’s led me to the dungeon and brought me over to a quiet corner of the room. A small but sturdy loveseat waits for us, covered in crimson fabric. Folding himself onto one side, he reaches for my waist and draws me onto his lap. My much smaller frame melts into his and I lean against his chest, resting my head on his shoulder. His grip tightens around me, and my heart flutters rapidly in my chest.
“Of course,” I tell him.
His grip tightens in warning, and I remember where we are.
“Sir,” I amend. “Of course, sir. Silly as it sounds, I always felt I was safe with you in the cemetery because you were a priest and you could ward off any demons that endangered me.”
He snorts. “Ward off demons? I had too many of my own.”
“Had?” I ask him, not teasing at all now. “Do you still have any?” I admire a man who can own his own flaws and still fight them, still get up every day and face whatever it is he needs to.
“Do we ever lose the demons?” he asks. “It’s a constant battle, you know. Good and evil. Right and wrong. Selfish or selfless.”
I don’t respond at first, but instead take a moment to observe what’s happening around us. It’s different than it was before, now that I’m on his lap being held by him, as if the intensity of the scenes are muffled, like a buffer of sorts. To my right, a woman has a collared man at her feet. She’s lecturing him and holding him in place with the crimson red leather tongue of a crop against his ass. He nods, and she gives him a little smack of approval. Someone at the cross is about to get a whipping, the spanking benches are occupied, and the other loveseat hosts a threesome, a woman kneeling before two strong, sturdy men, bare chested, clad only in leather pants.
And I wonder. Right here, while the club members pursue their interests, isn’t this the battle of selfish versus selfless? Good and evil? Right and wrong? They need to trust one another, and they strip away all that holds them back when they bring their bared, vulnerable selves here to play, both dom and sub alike. When given the choice, submissives can choose to retain their own control or relinquish it to someone else. Dominants wield authority that has the power to build or destroy.