Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Would I pay for him? Yes. But not in the way this man is asking.
“What is Matteo’s life worth to you?” His voice dips, softening at the edges. “Would you give yours to save his?”
That question ramps up my paranoia. First, they tried to provoke me with Matteo’s extracurricular activities, and now, it feels like they’re testing my loyalty to him. The thought crosses my mind that he could be behind this scheme, but I quickly rule that out. This man definitely isn’t Matteo, and it doesn’t make sense that he’d pay someone to stalk me for months.
“Tell me who’s asking.”
He abandons the pressure on my throat, only to replace it with a rough grip of my jaw. When his thumb skims across my lips, they part for him before my brain can rationalize it. Hunger and resentment war inside me as his thumb dips inside my mouth, and I taste the leather of his glove.
There’s something so uncivilized about it, I don’t know why I like it. But my body is running on instinct, not logic. And apparently, my instinct is to draw him deeper and close my lips around him.
A low, feral growl vibrates from his chest before he glances at his men. “Leave.”
They follow his order on command, and I suspect that most people probably do—if they know what’s good for them. Restless energy pulses through my body as I imagine how he might try to command me next.
There’s something about that mask, the slight tilt of his head, and the knowledge that he could toss me around like a doll if he wanted to. It’s nightmare fuel, but admittedly, he also could have crawled right out of my most depraved fantasies.
If this were a fictional scenario, I’d tell myself to do it for the plot. But it’s real life with real consequences—and if my father ever found out I let someone touch me, he’d probably kill me himself.
“Do you remember the first line of the gift I left in your office?” He releases his grip and drags his thumb from my mouth, smearing lipstick across my cheek. It leaves a stain of humiliation on my face, which I’m sure is exactly what he wants.
I squirm in the chair, trying and failing to pull a coherent thought from my brain. He’s asking about the custom shelves on my reading app—or more specifically, what I labeled them as. It isn’t just to taunt me. He has a reason, and I want to know what it is. But I can’t remember what was on that first line.
Was it masks or knives?
No, that’s not right. Maybe it was guns…or primal play. I close my eyes and mentally scroll through all the things I can remember adding there.
There was rough sex, obviously. Choking. Breeding. Cock warming. Praise. And some domination for good measure. It was basically a blueprint to every hidden desire I’ve ever entertained.
Regardless, I shouldn’t be humoring his question right now because it’s none of his business. But there’s a pulsing throb between my thighs I can’t ignore. I feel him everywhere, and he’s barely touched me.
The worst part is—he knows it.
“Answer me,” he orders.
“Last I checked, I’m not on your payroll,” I tell him. “So if you want someone to boss around, bring back Marv and Harry.”
An annoyed sigh huffs beneath the mask, like I’m the one inconveniencing him.
He reaches down to the sheath strapped against his thigh, and a sharp snap assaults my ears. When I catch a glint of the stiletto blade reflecting under the moonlight, my resistance dies a swift death.
The cold metal skims my throat, tracing a path between my collarbones all the way down to the center of my chest.
A suspended silence hangs in the air as static fills my thoughts, adrenaline amplifying the featherlight touch. He tips the blade up, the sharp and deadly point a hairsbreadth from piercing the cage where my beating heart resides.
A drop of crimson leaks from my skin, capturing his attention.
“Have you figured it out yet?” His sinful voice slides over me like silk, triggering a full-body shiver.
I nod as the realization hits me.
Fear.
That was the first line on my list.
“Good,” he breathes. “Let’s see if you’re as adventurous in reality.”
I swallow.
What does that even mean?
He tilts the blade again and uses the flat edge to tease one of my nipples through the satin material of my dress. It’s a slow form of torture—another mindfuck, because he’s not even touching me directly, but now it’s all I can think about.
What would he feel like?
I choke on the pleasure that bleeds up my throat, trying and failing to squeeze my legs shut for some much-needed friction. He edges closer, the heat of his body pressing into my back as his attention shifts to the thigh-length slit of my dress. Using the blade, he drags the hem all the way up, exposing my thong.