Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 49907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
I gagged and he pulled out, easing himself back in. “Relax, we both know you can take this.”
I glared up at him, hoping he could see some of what I was feeling. He chuckled and tightened his grip on my hair. “You can’t look intimidating with my dick halfway down your throat.” He pushed all the way in to emphasize his point. “You do look gorgeous as ever, though.”
He began thrusting in and out, setting a steady tempo. “That’s it,” he encouraged, his tone softer now.
He groaned and started to fuck my mouth like he had me., unrelenting, only slowing when I choked and needed a moment to catch my breath. My throat burned, my jaw ached, and my humiliation deepened with every second as saliva dripped down my chin. He didn’t let up. His control was absolute, his hand gripping the back of my head, keeping me exactly where he wanted. I had no warning before he stilled and nut shot across my tongue, coating it entirely.
“Swallow,” he commanded, his voice low and firm. When I hesitated, he pulled out and cupped my mouth. I tried to turn my head but that only caused his grip to tighten. I forced myself to swallow, the act hollowing me out in ways I didn’t think were possible. My body trembled, every muscle in me screaming for this to end.
“That’s my good girl,” he murmured, his thumb stroking my jaw as he finally released his hold on my hair.
He leaned back slightly, his gloved hand sliding under my chin to tilt my face up toward him. “You’ll remember this,” he said, his voice low and possessive. “You’ll remember who you belong to and never fucking forget it.”
I didn’t respond. My thoughts were a chaotic mess, torn between anger, humiliation, and something darker I didn’t want to name. Despite the disgust and rage twisting in my gut, there was a sickening part of me that acknowledged his words.
“So perfect,” he murmured again, branding the word into my soul. When he finally let go and pulled back, the world seemed to tilt, leaving me dizzy and unmoored.
I slumped forward, my bound wrists awkward and useless. He caught me before I could fall, his hands steady and sure.
His touch felt like a prison, a cage I would never escape. A gloved hand stroked my hair, fingers gently picking out the leaves and dirt that clung to it.
His touch was infuriatingly gentle, as though I was something fragile, he was determined not to break. The tender care was a cruel juxtaposition to what had just happened, making me feel even smaller. He didn’t force me to look at him, though his hand lingered on my cheek for a moment longer before sliding down.
“I’m gonna get you up now.” His arms slid beneath me, and he moved slowly, lifting me to my feet as though I was made of glass. My legs wobbled, and he steadied me, his hands unyielding on my waist. “Let’s go. The others are waiting.”
He guided me forward gripping my arm. Every step felt like a march to my own damnation.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
He took me back to the house with disturbing ease, like this was the most natural thing in the world and he knew the path by heart. The gag hung loosely around my neck, sticky with sweat and dirt.
I could feel the grime clinging to me—dirt and leaves stuck to my clothing and my skin. Between my legs, the soreness and feel of his cum was a relentless reminder of everything I wanted to forget and could possibly face. When my teeth began to chatter, Wilder tightened his grip on my arm and picked up our pace.
“You’ll be warm soon.”
He led me through the enclosed porch entrance, the sound of muffled laughter and music seeping through the walls. My steps faltered as we moved deeper into the house, but instead of heading for the dining room, he steered me toward the stairs.
My lips parted in shock as I took in the destruction. The hallway looked like a war zone. Walls had holes in them, furniture overturned, and shards of glass glinting in the dim light. I stepped on something soft that snagged against my foot. I glanced down, and my stomach turned violently when I saw what it was.
Naija’s locs.
Torn out at the root, clumped together in a sickening heap.
“I’m going to throw up,” I whispered, barely getting the words out before my knees buckled.
Wilder moved fast, hauling me into the nearest bathroom and holding me over the toilet. He kept my hair out of the way as my stomach emptied itself, my sobs choking me between heaves.
When I was done, I slumped forward, unable to find the strength to do anything else.
“Easy, baby,” he murmured, pulling me back gently. He set me on the cold tile floor, his movements careful.