Total pages in book: 20
Estimated words: 18916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 95(@200wpm)___ 76(@250wpm)___ 63(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 95(@200wpm)___ 76(@250wpm)___ 63(@300wpm)
Killian is a walking contradiction. Cold as snow and ruthlessly commanding one moment, then soft and delicate the next. It’s as if he’s trying to confuse me.
Could it be that he actually cares about me?
No. I must be projecting. I’m number five-oh-seven-five. That’s all I am to him. I can’t let myself hope. Not in here. Not while I’m surrounded by these walls, these bars, these…other men.
Yet still, I can’t shake the memory of what just happened from my mind. And that memory does something to me.
My hands move on their own, through my hair, over my breasts, and down to the tear in my jumpsuit where I’m absolutely soaking, dripping onto the floor.
It must be his spit. I can’t possibly be this wet…can I?
Just the thought sends shivers down my spine. I can’t be attracted to such a brutal man. To such cruelty. And why would I be? It’s only a matter of time before I screw up and he uses that rod on me…
In fact, a shower is just what I need right now. I need to wash him off of me.
Killian pushes me forward into the room, then slams his fist against a steel button on the wall, activating the showerhead.
“Don’t keep me waiting.”
I reach for my top button and almost hesitate. But then I remember—this man has seen me naked already. He’s had his tongue…down there. What do I have left to hide at this point?
I’m covered in him. His scent, his spit, whatever he left on me when he tore my jumpsuit and had his hands on my butt. If I don’t get myself clean now, I’ll never stop thinking about it. About what we did.
So for the second time since I arrived, I strip down naked in front of him. I swear I hear him grunt as my jumpsuit hits the floor. Skin tingling, I step into the water.
It’s freezing cold. A shock to my system. Panicked, I grab the nozzle and the tiny bar of soap and begin scrubbing.
“You want to wash your dirty little body, don’t you?” His voice rumbles from the door. No one has ever spoken to me like this. It makes me feel so small, but at the same time, gives my heart little sparkly jitters.
“I…I have to,” I mutter, scouring myself with the spray. I have to get it all off. It’s the only way I’ll survive.
The tiny soap bar slips from my hands and falls to my feet. I scramble to pick it up, which causes me to drop the shower nozzle. It clangs against the tile, spraying water everywhere.
“Five-oh-seven-five,” he snaps, walking right up to me. “This isn’t a spa. You don’t have the luxury of wasting our water!”
“But I—”
My throat tightens as he grabs me by the arm and presses me down on my back. I can feel each tile, each crack, each seam pressing against my skin as I look up at him, my jaw agape.
His eyes burn with unreadable intensity.
“If you cannot wash yourself, inmate, I’ll do it for you.”
Like I belong to him, he spreads my legs with his hand, and the next thing I feel is the unflinching spray of water there. The place I’ve touched myself before but with no success. Only his tongue was able to make it happen.
A breath catches in my throat as I marvel up at his massive form, pinning me down with ease using only a single hand while ‘washing’ me with his other. His expression is stony, but there’s something else. Cracks beginning to form?
A muscle twitches in his neck. His cheek twitches as he sweeps my body with his eyes.
Does he hate what he’s doing to me? Or does he love it? For the life of me, I can’t tell.
But he is stimulating my most sensitive spot with the showerhead, and my body begins to bloom again. The cold water might as well be boiling as my back arches off the tile. Without thinking, I find my breasts with both hands and squeeze.
God, what am I doing? I’m a wild animal, still buzzing from what he did to me in the visitor’s room.
My first orgasm…
Something I never thought would happen. And now I can feel another approaching.
Splash, splash splash. Is it the water? Or is it…me?
I’m closing in on it again. On that place where he brought me that shone like the stars.
But I’m fighting it.
Why? I don’t know. It just feels…wrong.
I barely know this man. I’m not even sure he cares about me, yet he seems obsessed with my body.
“You’re a bad little angel, aren’t you?” he asks, leaning in, unmistakable lust in his eyes. There’s a bulge between his pants that I try to ignore, but just seeing it is like a high dose of adrenaline.
He leans in closer, the water persisting, massaging my middle, my little secret nub that only he has seen. Each little circle, each precise flick pulls me closer and closer. I pant harder, desperate for air.