Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
“Tell me that what we’ve shared over the last two weeks has been enough for you,” he challenges gently. “Tell me you don’t want me to take control. You don’t want me to ravage you.”
My chest tightens. It’s been blissful to be back in his arms, to have him inside me. But I haven’t experienced the transcendent ecstasy that once consumed me.
But that was before I knew what he did to me. Before I knew how dangerous he truly is.
“I will never hurt you,” he reminds me. “Trust me.”
“Dane, I…” I can’t find the right words. My mind sticks on the decision.
It’s foolish to give in to this, to give in to him. He’s my stalker. My kidnapper.
And yet, I know deep in my bones that he’ll do anything to keep me safe. Even from himself.
He brushes another kiss over my knuckles. “It’s your choice.”
We’ve reached the front of the line of cars. He gets out, circles the Porsche, and opens my door for me. A valet takes his keys, and Dane places his hand at the small of my back.
Butterflies beat their delicate wings in my stomach, a slightly desperate, fearful thrill.
He pauses and snaps his fingers. “How could I forget?”
The slightly cruel tilt to his smile tells me that he didn’t forget at all; this moment is designed to keep me on edge.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out my black leather collar with rose gold accents. The one that used to mark me as his submissive. And he was my master.
I try to take a step back, but his strong arm snakes around my lower back, trapping me. He pulls me in close, and his murmured words are hot on my neck.
“Are you going to be a good girl and lift your hair for me? Or am I going to have to pin you down to lock your collar around your pretty throat? One way or another, you’ll accept it. You’ll accept me.”
My lips part in shock, and I stare up into his glittering green eyes that peer through the black skull mask.
“It’s your choice,” he says again, but there’s a mocking lilt to his tone this time.
I can’t allow him to physically subdue me like that. I can’t bear it. Especially not when there are other people around to witness my degradation.
My hands shake as I lift my hair, but I glare at him with open defiance.
He grins. “There’s my fierce pet. You’re being such a good girl for me now. When will you show your claws?”
“I’m not playing this game with you,” I hiss.
I can’t.
Not after what he’s done to me. Not after that awful scene in my studio, when he forced orgasms from my unwilling body.
He drops a kiss on my chilled lips, and the ice that was beginning to frost my skin melts away.
His hands encircle my throat, and smooth leather touches my neck. The familiar feel of it buckling into place is bittersweet, and tumultuous emotions surge.
I can’t do this. I can’t want this.
But I don’t fight when he slips the delicate padlock through the metal loop at the back of the buckle. It clicks closed, and the collar seems to meld to my skin, becoming part of me. As though it belongs there.
As though I belong to him.
I’m so absorbed by my internal conflict that I barely register the glint of silver before the cuff closes around my right wrist.
“What are you—”
The question dies in my throat when I see him lock the matching cuff around his left wrist. We’re tethered together by a short chain.
“You’re not going anywhere, pet.”
I straighten my shoulders. “You can’t do this to me. I won’t walk into a room full of strangers wearing a collar and handcuffs.”
“I absolutely can.” He chuckles, a sound of arrogant amusement. “Try to stop me. Give me the satisfaction of clipping on your leash and making you crawl.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You can’t make me do anything.”
“Oh, little dove,” he croons. “I definitely can. But for now, I’m giving you a choice.”
“These aren’t choices,” I shoot back. “It’s coercion.”
With every “choice” I make, I’m making myself more vulnerable. I’m surrendering to him just a little bit more.
He traces the curve of my purple curl. “And you love being coerced.”
You liked it. I remember how he justified his actions as the masked man. How he justified what he did to me in the studio.
The chill is closing in on me again, and my throat tightens to restrict my breathing, as though his long fingers are squeezing my neck.
He kisses me again, taking his time to caress my lips with his, imbuing me with warmth.
“Time to join the other guests, pet.”
I try to stall, but he strides forward. The metal cuff tugs at my wrist, dragging me in his wake.