Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Her body tenses, but she can’t pull away, not that she seems to want to. My eyes lock with hers as I slip my fingers inside her panties, and I waste no time in parting her open like the petals of a flower. Isla can’t do anything to hide her body’s physical display of desire when my fingers touch the wet heat between her legs. With slow, languid strokes, I circle my finger over her clit and am rewarded with an instant reaction on her part.
Isla’s body quivers almost instantly, too soon in any other instance, but seeing as though I’ve stopped the elevator, I decide not to draw this out too long. Another time, perhaps, and I won’t let her come to orgasm so quickly. But for right now, my goal is to show her I’m in charge here, and not the other way around.
Her head tips back against the elevator, and her knees tremble. I use my other arm to hold her up and prop my knee between her legs for her to balance on. For a moment, it almost feels like she’s trying to resist letting herself go. But I won’t allow that kind of defiance. I want her body to respond to me now, and so the pace and pressure of my circling finger increase. I lean forward, letting my lips graze the side of her face as I whisper in her ear.
“I admire your tenacity, Isla, but let’s see how long it lasts, shall we?” No sooner do I ask the rhetorical question than I shove two fingers inside of her. The outside stimulation is now matched with what my fingers do inside her body, and it doesn’t take long before it tips her over the edge.
I hold her as her body crumbles into tremors and keep her upright as her legs collapse beneath her. The act also aroused me, making it difficult to release her despite my stiff and throbbing cock. I pull myself off of her, but barely.
For a second, we stand there both looking breathlessly at the other. Then, I push the elevator button to start again. After the doors open a few seconds later, I’m still uncertain about who enjoyed that moment more. “Go inside, Isla,” I say as I stand there looking at the penthouse, chest heaving with a desire that threatens to rage out of control.
CHAPTER 9
ISLA
It’s been days since I saw Vincent—days since he came here to the penthouse, my gilded cage, to see me. It’s been days since that kiss.
The memory of that kiss has been the first thing on my mind every morning when I wake up and the last thing I think of at night before I close my eyes to sleep. Never has such an intense kiss consumed me so instantly.
I kissed Vincent to prove that he can’t control me. He can’t control me, regardless of his attempts. But it backfired spectacularly. Instead of gaining the upper hand with that unexpected power play, I now feel completely helpless, as all I can think about is wanting to kiss him again.
“There must be something wrong with me,” I say, shaking my head as I pace the penthouse and wait for the espresso machine to finish brewing. I haven’t been sleeping well and need the extra jolt of caffeine today. After dark, I lay in bed, replaying the feeling of Vincent’s mouth on mine in my mind.
“Are you ill?” Zara asks as she walks in and overhears me mumbling to myself.
I don’t have the courage to tell her that the only “illness” I’m suffering from is the longing that I feel toward her violent boss.
“No,” I say. “Just unsettled. Do you know why Vincent hasn’t come by?”
Zara shakes her head and pours us both a cup of coffee from the pot. She’s been checking in on me a lot over the past few days during Vincent’s absence. I’m growing fond of her simply because it’s nice to have a female friend around, although I’m not sure she’d consider us “friends”.
“Not sure,” she says as she sits down at the table with her laptop. She stays for a while sometimes just to keep me company, which is nice. But it’s easy to see when she’s lying, like now, because her eyes dart from side to side. “I think he’s just been busy with stuff. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”
“Zara,” I say as I sit to join her. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” She closes her laptop and looks at me. Zara’s tone is always casual and maybe even aloof, but I’m seeing that she has an empathetic side that she keeps close to her chest. I connect with her more deeply than those around me. There’s a familiar look deep in her eyes that resonates with me, one that hints at the same emotional trauma I once went through—a kindred spirit, perhaps.