Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 168587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 843(@200wpm)___ 674(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 168587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 843(@200wpm)___ 674(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
“Yes,” she gasps, her body trying to fight me, but I’ve got her pinned in place.
She will serve men who stare at her all night, but I will be the one who fucks her. Who owns her.
My free hand grabs her hair, yanking her head up, and I don’t take it easy on her. It’s a quickie, just to prove a point, no matter how much I want to take my time fucking what’s mine.
Her whimpers and cries turn to moans and gasps. I hold her pinned down while my eyes fall to watch my cock slam into her soaked cunt until I can’t hold off any longer. I shove my hips forward one last time and come inside her. Pulling out, she flinches, and I release her arms.
She remains lying over the armrest, breathing heavily, and I shove my bloody cock back into my boxers. She’s still bleeding. Less than earlier, but it’s still there.
I make my way over to my desk, and she slowly rises, pulling up her fishnets, leotard, and shorts. “You’re dismissed, Lake,” I inform her, in case she hasn’t caught the hint, and place my attention on my computer. A moment later, I hear the door open and close at her departure.
LAIKYN
I run to the public bathroom on the first floor, looking at myself in the mirror. I wrap my fingers around the choker and try to pull on it. Tears run down my face, and I sniff. “Fucking sick bastard.” I yank on it some more, but there’s no use. All it does is pinch the skin on the back of my neck. It’s irritated, red, and itchy. “GODDAMMIT!”
My hands slap the counter, and I bow my head, trying to stop the tears that want to fall. I’m not this fucking weak. I told myself after Whitney was killed that I would not be this helpless girl.
Yet here I am with a fucking shock collar around my neck and my husband’s cum leaking out of my bleeding cunt. Once again, he didn’t let me get off. He told me in the hotel suite that I’d have to earn it. Fuck that. I’ve gone twenty-one years without getting off. I can go another twenty-one. Hell, fifty if it takes me that long to kill him.
I wonder what the Lords will do to me if I shoot him in his sleep. Surely, they won’t care. Tyson Crawford was meant for greatness, but he gave it up. For what? I don’t know but I don’t think they’d hold a trial for me if I offed him.
I’m sure I wouldn’t be the first Lady to kill her husband and sure as fuck not the last. But they would hand me down to another—when a Lord dies, his Lady is gifted to another Lord. It’s how they keep us in line. We’ve seen and know too much, so we must stay within the society. Who says he won’t be worse? Is there worse than my dead sister’s ex-boyfriend that killed her? I’m not sure I want to test that theory.
Lifting my face, I look at myself in the mirror and wipe the tears out from underneath my eyes. I never thought I’d be glad that I wasn’t wearing makeup. Otherwise, I’d look far worse. But who the fuck cares what I look like. Right? I’m here because I have to be not because I want to be.
The door opens, and I avert my eyes to hide the fact I’ve been crying.
“Laikyn, right?” a woman asks.
Letting out a slow breath, I lift my head. “Yeah.” At least she didn’t call me Mrs. Crawford.
She comes to stand next to me, looking at herself in the mirror. She’s pretty, dark hair fixed in a high pony, full makeup on with pink glittery eye shadow and matching lipstick. “I’m not sure what he sees in you.” Her brown eyes meet mine in the mirror.
I stiffen at her words. “Excuse me?” I ask, hoping I heard her wrong.
Turning to face me, I do the same, curious as to what she meant by that. “Tyson.” She crosses her arms over her chest and her eyes drop to my ring. “Now your sister … that made sense.”
My heart pounds in my chest. “You knew my sister?” I can’t help but ask.
Instead of answering, she just smirks before she turns and walks out of the bathroom, making me wonder what the fuck that was about. Just one more thing to add to this fucked-up day.
The night hasn’t gone all that bad. I spilled a couple of drinks but nothing serious. They just tipped over on my tray when I tilted it too much. I haven’t broken any glass, so that’s a plus. I did however have problems answering customers who asked what we serve.
Alcohol, dumb ass, is what I wanted to reply with, but instead, I smiled brightly, bent over and shoved my tits in their faces and said “I’m new. What do you usually drink?” One guy gave me a twenty and said to surprise him. The other guy got hit in the arm when his girlfriend caught his eyes on my chest.