Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 134133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
I want more nights just like this one, and while I realize fucking her when she doesn't really want me to isn't the best way to accomplish that, I'm not enough a fan of anticipation to deny myself the pleasure.
I also have a sense that even if I did wait, as tentative as my Sophie is, I'd be waiting forever.
No, I have to be the one to set the pace. Hers won't work for me. It can't be working for her, either, unless she wants to die a virgin.
Is she a virgin?
She never said she was, only that the scumbag who pretended to be her friend to get in her pants hadn't fully raped her.
"Have you been fucked before?" I ask, suddenly needing to know if anyone else has been here with her.
She shakes her head no and my chest fills with something strangely possessive.
All mine.
My lips curve up. I release her arm so I can use my hands to untie the knotted bottom of her blue flannel top.
She turns her head, unable to watch.
I make quick work of it, then I press my hand against the smooth, warm skin of her stomach.
The touch is too much. She grabs my wrist, looking up at me, a pleading look in her eyes.
She knows she shouldn't have to plead with me, but she does anyway.
I like her.
"I've never met anyone like you before," I tell her.
My words must ring hollow to her.
It probably sounds like a line, but it's not.
I don't need to lie to her to get what I want, after all. I'm prepared to take it.
When I reach down to unbutton and unzip her shorts for the second time tonight, she tries again, grabbing my wrists with a soft, "Come on, Silvan. You know I don't want to do this. Stop it."
I don't. I like her hands on me, though, so I pause a couple of times to let her think maybe I'm reconsidering.
She licks her pretty lips, and fuck.
I know she's not trying to entice me, but she's doing a damn good job of it, anyway.
"Get on the bed."
She shakes her head no.
I grab one of her braided pigtails, wrapping it around my fist, then using it to force her face closer to mine. She cries out when I tug her. "I can take what I want from you without the bed, if you’d prefer it," I offer smoothly. Then, lightly tracing the curve of her plump lower lip with my thumb, I tell her, "Such a pretty mouth. It will look so goddamn good wrapped around my cock."
Fear glistens in her eyes, but she doesn't say a word.
I let go of her hair and give her a good, hard shove back onto the bed.
With a gasp, she catches herself on her elbows, then promptly rolls toward the other side of the bed. "Are you crazy?" she demands when I grab her ankle, giving it a good yank and flattening her on her tummy so I can drag her back.
"Perhaps." I grab her other leg and turn her over on her back so she's looking up at me.
"Let go of me," she demands.
Rather than do as she asks, I draw out my sword.
Not the prop on the bed, but the real one hanging from my hip. Her eyes widen at the glint of steel. Before she can do a damn fool thing like grab it to push it away, I tell her, "I should warn you, this one isn't a prop."
She swallows, watching the blade as it nears her, her chest rising and falling rapidly, but her body otherwise motionless.
"My blade is sharp, so I wouldn't advise touching it." I lower the blade as I warn her, pressing the tip against her breasts and forcing her back down on the bed while hardly exerting a bit of force.
Physical force, anyway.
Her words lack confidence, but they come from a place of common reason. Of course, what she says should generally be true, she's just not sure it's true for me. "You're not going to hurt me with that thing. You're not a real Viking. We live in a civilized society. You might be able to get away with raping me in the fucked-up world we live in, but you damn sure won't get away with running me through with a sword."
My lips tug up. "Oh, I wouldn't run you through. Just nick you. I don't mind going deep, though. I like the idea of my mark on your body long after you've left my house. If I cut deep enough, it'll scar. Then, you'll wear a memory of me for the rest of your life."
"You'd still get in trouble," she says uneasily.
"You think so? See, I think it'd be pretty easy to claim there was a mix-up. We were playing around with the Viking stuff, and I thought I grabbed the prop sword. Grabbed the real one instead." She must have buttoned her shorts when she was on her belly trying to roll away from me. The zipper is still down, but the button is secure again, as if that flimsy little thing might stop me from taking what I want.