Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
I start begging, groaning when he loosens the beads as I come.
“That’s my girl,” he whispers, the beads gone, and his hand is no longer on my clit. He pulls out and then spins me so fast I don’t have time to catch on until I’m lifted up, and my legs go around his waist before he thrusts back into me.
“Your neck is red,” he says with a sinister smile and gleaming eyes.
His words and that smile have me bouncing on his cock. My clit rubs against him with the perfect amount of friction, and before either of us can even think clearly, we’re both falling over the edge. He bites my shoulder, and I bite my bottom lip before I realize I don’t have to be quiet and scream as I come.
When he stops rocking me, I slowly let my legs down from around his waist, and he slips out of me. I step back and look around, seeing my clothes on the floor and the beads discarded at his feet. But before I can reach for them, his voice stops me.
“Time for bed,” he says, seemingly without a second thought. I assumed he would want me to leave, but he takes my hand and pulls me toward his bedroom. Entering the room, I see a low bed with what appears to be a cushion frame and white bedding. I’m surprised by his actions—all of the rumors aren’t matching up, and I hate that I’m falling for his brand of lunacy, even if I fight it at every turn.
I glance down at the mess between my legs, then raise my gaze to look for a bathroom.
“You aren’t leaving. We still have many more positions to try,” he says, assuming I was searching for an escape route.
“I need to wash up,” I reply.
“You can dirty my bed.” He smirks, and I try to avoid eyeing him because he looks really fucking good with his mussed-up dark hair and toned body.
“Fine, but I’m at least going to pee.”
He climbs onto his bed, and I walk into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.
As I look at myself in the mirror, my fingers drift across the sensitive marks lining my pale neck like a macabre necklace. I thought I would feel horrified at the sight of them. But instead, they make me feel powerful, sensual… changed.
Fuck, maybe I’m as deranged as Arlo.
After splashing water on my face, I use the toilet, wash my hands, and then head back into the bedroom. Arlo is no longer on the bed. In fact, he isn’t in the room at all. I take the opportunity to look around his most private space, which is quite spacious and, like the rest of his house that I’ve seen, is filled with things like art, plants, and books. It’s inviting and not what I expected.
“Your ass has a perfect handprint on it,” he says from behind me. I turn to face him as he lifts an icepack and carefully puts it on my neck. His closeness affects me, and I have to tell myself it’s time to leave. But when he says, “Climb into bed,” I do as I’m told, as if my body is his to command, as if he has me on autopilot.
I take hold of the ice pack and sit on the edge of the bed as he switches the lights off. “Keep it on to reduce the redness and swelling,” he tells me.
The other side of the bed dips while my eyes adjust to the darkness of the room. He reaches for me and then pulls me down next to him. His arm hooks around my waist, and he scoots me backward until I’m in the crook of his body. I feel his hardness pressed against my ass, but he doesn’t move, and neither do I. We simply lie there, perfectly still, as I listen to his breathing.
I didn’t plan on staying the night. I came here to numb myself. I like that when I’m with him, everything else kind of vanishes.
His arm tightens around my waist, and his other hand sneaks up to check that the ice pack is still on my neck. I’m going to have to wear high-necked dresses for a while. I guess that’s the price you pay for pleasure. I didn’t realize I liked a bit of pain during sex until Arlo.
“Stop thinking,” he whispers into my ear.
My eyes flutter closed at the sound of his voice, and tiredness hits me hard.
I’m woken by what sounds like a hushed argument. It feels like I only just fell asleep, but I don’t know what time it is. I go to move, only to realize Arlo’s arm is no longer at my waist. The sun isn’t up yet, and he’s not in bed.