Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
And so it would stay between them, always.
His fingers guided her head, and he felt her tremble at his touch.
"That's it," Sylvain murmured, moving slowly, steadily. "Take all of me."
Each forward motion took him deeper, each retreat gave her time to adjust. She was clumsy at first—of course she was—but a quick learner. Her tongue began to explore on its own, darting and playing against sensitive spots that made him grit his teeth.
With each thrust, he went deeper into her mouth. With each thrust, she learned how to please him, her inexperience giving way to instinct, her tongue circling and teasing the swollen tip of his manhood.
Enfin, ah, enfin.
Her hands, previously frozen at her sides, suddenly reached up to grasp the muscles of his derrière, nails digging hard enough to mark. The unexpected aggression made him growl, and his wife seemed to delight in hearing this, with how she began to test the limits of his control. She was sucking in earnest now, and his legendary control was no match for it.
Sylvain's breathing turned harsh, fingers tightening in her hair as he increased the pace. The sight of his darling little thief on her knees, stealing his heart as she pleasured him, was a battle he had no hope of winning. Her innocent ways were his undoing, her clumsy attempts to drive him wild only making him hunger for her more and more and more...until his wife's name tore from his throat in a groan.
"Liana."
Release claimed him in an explosive instant, Sylvain spilling himself in her mouth, and satisfaction blazing through his veins as his wife worked hard to take it all in, swallowing everything until the very last drop.
When he slowly withdrew, she collapsed onto the tiled floor, breath coming in ragged pants, and her legs pressed together unconsciously, seeking relief from the ache he knew was building there.
"Your turn, ma petite."
Her head jerked up in shock. "N-No—"
Silly girl.
His finger slipped back into her mouth, silencing her protests. The way she automatically sucked it told him everything her words wouldn't admit.
Why was she still lying to herself?
Sylvain swooped her up, laying her down on the lounge chair, soft towel under her back. He sat on the edge, watching her every response as he once again pleasured her with his fingers, this time focusing solely on her sweet little nub.
Patient strokes, then furious ones.
And when her eyes pleaded with him, he understood what she was asking.
"Sylvain."
This was not part of the plan.
But...c'est la vie.
The moment he gave her his name, he knew then there was no coming back from this.
His Liana sobbed his name out as she came, body shuddering at the strength of her release, and still his fingers moved, every stroke plunging her deeper and deeper into an abyss of sensual exhaustion.
"Sylvain... arrête... s'il te plaît." Stop...please.
His wife's eyelids were already drifting closed as she spoke, her spent body succumbing to sleep.
Pauvre âme malheureuse. Poor unfortunate soul.
She still had the smallest chance of freedom before this. But the moment he gave her his name, it was over for both of them.
He tasted her on his fingers, and it was as delicious as it was forbidden.
She was his, he was hers.
But what remained to be seen was whether she was meant to be his queen... or his captive.
It all depended on whether she passed or failed the test.
Chapter Six
SO WHERE WAS THAT AGAIN?
Erin had kindly offered to escort me earlier, but I just as kindly said no. I'd like to see how well I've memorized the ins and outs of this place, and mm...right or left?
The hallways stretch before me like carpeted arteries through the heart of the mansion, all of them identical in every way save for the paintings adorning the walls. This hall is all about the impressionists, another hall is dedicated entirely to Kaws, and so forth.
My mind starts to drift while I consider which path will take me to the breakfast room. Because, you know, my husband is so rich, a dining room for all the major meals of the day is—what was that word he used again?
Oh, right.
Pedestrian.
I decide to take a right where the hallway branches, following the scent of fresh bread and coffee as more memories breach the surface of my thoughts. They have a will of their own, and they want to be remembered.
My mind says, forget, forget, forget.
My memories say, recall, recall, recall.
I told you, didn't I?
The man I married is driving me insane.
Waking up alone in my bed this morning was both a blessing and a curse. On the upside? I'm glad my husband wasn't there to hear me let out a blood-curdling shriek...as I realized that he's made me pass out in pleasure for the second time.
I'm younger between us, for goodness' sake.
So why am I the one lacking in stamina?