Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 44666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 223(@200wpm)___ 179(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 223(@200wpm)___ 179(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
He still doesn’t move.
Will he ever?
“Oliver.” His name escapes in a plea, cloaked in seduction, floating on the air like a siren’s lure.
As if absorbing the impact of my voice, he sucks in a ragged breath and starts toward me, each step a release of restraint. By the time he reaches the bed and crawls over me, hovering but not touching, his loose shirt grazing my nipples, I’m ready to fly apart.
A hoarse whimper rasps out of me.
“Don’t come yet.” He takes me by the chin.
The air between us crackles, and another groan spills free.
He pushes a finger past my lips. “Suck.”
“Mmm.” I envelop him in the eager seal of my mouth.
“Match this pace,” he commands, withdrawing, then pressing back in. “Not faster. Not slower. I want you right on the edge.”
I hum around his salty skin, following his rhythm with trembling focus as I rub myself in tandem.
Oliver shifts, bracing an elbow on the mattress.
“Wider,” he says, deepening the motion, adding another digit.
I stretch my jaw for him, and he smirks.
“Both your mouth and your legs.”
So I spread even more.
“Yes, that’s it. Let the air ground you. Let it be the one thing that holds you in check.”
But I’m not sure I can control myself with him so close. His commands direct every aspect of this show, and I’m an actress under his tutelage.
“You’re doing so well. Now push your finger into that pretty cunt. I want to hear how wet you are.”
I work a single digit into my tight, slick walls. Need builds as my thumb drifts back to my nub.
“No more clit.” His fingers thrust into my throat, triggering a gag that rips my focus away. “You’re too close.”
Unbidden, my groan turns guttural, but the edge stays out of reach, held at bay by Oliver’s maddening pace.
He’s the master of patience, demanding I surrender with every slow stroke against my tongue. So when he suddenly yanks my wrist away and sucks my soaked fingers into his mouth, I’m caught off guard.
“Mmm, you taste incredible.” He guides my hand between my thighs again. “What do you want, Novalee?”
“I want to come.”
“I can leave and let you finish alone.” He nips my ear with his teeth. “Is that what you want?”
“After all these weeks, that’s your move?”
“If you want me to make you come, you have to say the word.”
“What word?” I gasp, dazed with lust. “What are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about.” His pointed statement sends my mind straight to that locked door.
I do know, and it’s the knowing that winds around my windpipe.
“Please, Oliver,” I whisper, pride nowhere to be found.
“Please, what?”
“Please…” Primed and shameless, I close my eyes and succumb to the inevitable. “Sir.”
That’s all he needs. In a fluid motion, he sweeps me into his arms and carries me to the forbidden door I’ve spent the month avoiding.
“Once we step inside,” he says, lowering me to my feet, “your virginity is the only thing off-limits.” He grasps my nape. “You’ll be mine until morning.”
“The whole night?”
“At my mercy until sunrise.”
“Will you hurt me?” My voice cracks, tendrils of fear snaking free.
“I don’t give pain without pleasure.”
“That doesn’t reassure me.”
“I’m not here to reassure you. I’m offering to take you to a place where the two are intertwined. If you want to know all the ways I can make you feel, then say the word one more time, so I know you’re certain.”
My attention veers from his face to the door. Sir is already clamoring to spill off my tongue again, but my vocal cords won’t cooperate. Seconds sneak by as I swallow down my instincts, both fight and flight, before giving myself over to the unknown.
With a choked plea, I seal my fate and utter what he wants to hear.
Oliver’s smile turns dark and sensual as he keys in the code. “By morning, you’ll say it without resistance.”
18
I don’t know what I expected. A dungeon like the one buried beneath this tower, all darkness and chains, designed to strike fear into the bones of any man? Or maybe something similar to Vance’s decadent suite, where every piece of furniture teetered between practical and perverse?
Oliver’s sanctum radiates control, terrifying in purpose and opulent in design. A lavish playground for his varied…tastes.
“Surprised?” he asks, the heat of his presence pulling at me like gravity. His hands settle on my shoulders, and I catch myself leaning into him, spine brushing solid muscle.
“Not exactly surprised, but it’s not what I pictured either.”
Golden light spills across the room, each piece of equipment casting a shadowy signature on the floor. Swings, benches, and metal frames sit with purpose. At the center stands a massive four-poster bed draped in black silk, its thick posts notched and reinforced for bondage.
One wall showcases rope in bundles of every hue—deep crimson, obsidian black, earthy brown, ivory white, and all the colors between.