Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Her sweet scent has me burying my face into her hair as she wiggles on my lap, her hands fussing and fluttering to finally cross over her belly as her eyes light on mine with a hint of discomfort.
“Tell me the truth. Are you hurt from my cock? Sore, I understand, but you look like something is bothering you. You need to tell me.”
“I’m fine.” She offers a tight grin as I shake my head and give her another round of the water before dealing with this.
“Yeah, you’re fine, and you’re mine, and I take care of my possessions. I’m not a doctor though, and I am relying on you to answer me when I ask you something. Now, you look uncomfortable. Is it from the fucking or something else?” My words are hard and demanding, but I mean each and every one.
“Okay, well, sore, yes, but no, not hurt. I just…” She battles with that forced smile, her hands working on her belly. “I don’t like how my belly looks all smushed up, with you holding me like this. All the fat is in rolls, and I’m…” She shrugs. “I don’t like how it looks.”
My mind filters through all that.
First, I swell with satisfaction that she cares how she looks to me. My plan is moving in the right direction.
But second, she needs some re-education on what sexy is.
“Bijou, never, ever use that word when you refer to yourself, you get me? I will turn your ass six shades of red if you do.” I try to soften my tone, thunderclouds rioting inside my head that she thinks of herself as anything less than perfection. “Every fucking inch of you makes me fucking hard. You feel it right now? I’m steel, wanting inside you again. You are beyond sexy and if I have my way…which I will, because that’s just something you need to get used to…I’ll have you even softer for me. A few more curves gives me more of you to love.”
Love.
There, I said it.
She hasn’t yet, but with her here on my lap, those green eyes looking less like they want to kill me and more like they want to please me, she needs to know.
“I love you, Bijou. That’s the other reason I did this. Not just to teach you to keep your mouth shut, but to make sure you were mine forever. Because I fucking love you. And now, you’re my wife.”
I set down the water and pick up a toothpick speared with prosciutto-wrapped melon. When I bring it to her lips, her eyes stay on me, then without protest she opens.
“Good little lamb.” I let her chew as I shift her on my lap, so I can make her a little plate of the cheeses and meats and fruit. Then I set it on her lap and lean back against the sofa, her body resting on mine, making the skies inside my head turn blue again with my dick throbbing as I watch her chew.
“So good,” she mouths around the bite, pleasure rounding her features, more color returning to her face.
“Good to hear, because if you don’t like it, I’ll throw it out the fucking window and order you whatever you want.” She snorts as I nod toward the plate. “Now, eat. I’m just going to watch as I think about which hole I’m going to conquer next.”
A shiver passes through her as she nibbles at her food. It’s time she understands the depth of my depravity and obsession with her.
“Turn on light in the trophy box,” I announce to the ceiling.
Bijou is in mid-bite of a chocolate-covered strawberry, pink juice dripping from the corner of her mouth as I lean over and lick it away.
Then I press my lips to her ear. “Look.”
I lift my fingers from the back of the sofa and point toward a wall to her left, where an archway leads to one of the entrances to my massive closet.
Low light glows inside a glass case recessed into the wall and I grip her chin and turn her head so she can take in the glory of my obsession.
It takes her a second, then her lips open, mid-bite, as she puts the pieces together.
“Is that—are those—?” She stammers, swallowing down the last bit of the strawberry before fear tightens her features, her eyes flashing to my face, then back to the lit cabinet on the wall. “My panties?”
I nod, feeling like a Viking showing off the spoils of his newly-conquered kingdom. “Yes, starting from your eighteenth birthday. You woke up without your panties after the concert, remember?”
Confusion and shock flicker in her eyes. “You snuck in?”
“I walked in. My security company, my girl, my house. Cut them off you while you slept.”
My heart pounds in my ears as she melts against me, and in this moment, this sliver of time, she finally understands.