Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
“Do you need me to do your underarms, too?”
Somehow, my face and ears burn hotter at the question. He's stared directly into my underwear-covered pussy, he's shaved the hair on my legs, and now I'm blushing at the thought of him running that knife over my armpits.
Come on, Elyse.
“No,” I tell him. “I'm good. It's a smaller area, so I can usually shave that just fine.”
He nods once and focuses his attention on washing his hands. After drying them, he plucks the dress he’d tossed on the other side of the counter up and holds it out to me. I lean forward to grab it but he shakes his hand, and instead opens the top to slide it over my head.
“I’m not a toddler. I can dress myself.”
He narrows his eyes. “If you could, then you would already be dressed by now, wouldn't you?”
I grit my teeth and let him settle the dress down over my hips. He stares at my bra straps, like he wants to cut them off too, but instead he reaches around and unfastens it, like he’s an expert. “You can go without a bra; the dress has enough coverage.”
I question him with a lifted brow. “Says the man who isn't running around with his tits out.”
The corner of his mouth twitches, barely. “Fair enough, but you'll still go without.”
I say nothing since we both know he's right, and there’s no point in arguing. Not right now, with the shine of the knife on the counter next to my hip and the way his eyes keep roving over my skin like somehow, by grooming me, he owns even more of my body than he did before.
It’s like this small act changed something between us. I can’t pinpoint what yet, but I’m even more terrified now. Not of him, precisely. But of this feeling, of the unknown.
I’m shaking as he steps away, and there’s no hiding it. I know he sees it, too.
“Hurry up, or I’ll do what I promised to do to begin with and drag you along beside me, clothes or no clothes.” He says the last almost half-heartedly, like he’s already somewhere else, thinking about something else.
I nod once, not wanting to draw the monster out of him anymore than I already have. I’ve pushed him enough already, and knowing myself like I do, it won’t take much more to irritate him further, and I have an entire evening to spend with him.
10
Sebastian
She doesn't notice that I exit the bathroom with the wet cloth still clutched tight in my hand and the knife in my other since I wasn't about to leave that in her possession. I saw what she did to my clothes, and while I’m far more agile and capable of protecting myself, I’d prefer it if I didn’t have to break her hand when I force her to drop the knife.
I close the bathroom door behind me and pray she takes the hint and stays inside. If she interrupts me now, there's no way I’ll be able to stop myself. Not with the feel of her slick, soapy skin under my palms still so fresh in my mind.
There aren’t many places for privacy in a shared suite so I have to be creative. I wait until I hear the sink turn on before I duck into the closet and close myself inside. It's a small walk-in, and the perfect space for a moment of peace. I brace my back against the door to face the row of plush white robes hanging on the rack.
Why am I so weak for her? How could I become so consumed by her that I let her bring me this close to the edge, where I either live in or risk losing complete control.
It takes two seconds to unzip my pants and pull my aching cock out. I almost whimper from the sheer relief of the friction on my skin when I fist it, dragging my hand up and down in a long, lingering stroke. It's not enough, though. The low-burning ember of desire sticks in my gut, but I’m missing that bang, the igniter.
I rotate the knife in my palm one-handed and press my thumb to the base of the crossguard. It slides along my skin as easily as it did Ely's, and my entire body hums with approval as I watch the blood well in thick droplets. I use it to slick up my own skin and then release a sigh.
This is what I need. No, that's not true. What I need is Ely on her knees, my cock down her throat while she cries big fat tears for me, but that’s not going to happen.
It can't. It won’t.
I settle for my own hand instead, and while I stroke myself, I try not to think of her smooth skin or the way her soft, small tits would fit so perfectly in my hands.