Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 157162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Visions of Elliot’s lips on mine flashed into my mind. How effortless it had been, responding and submitting to him without thought. My body was alight with fire through every moment. No hesitation, no power games.
Safe.
I’d felt safe with him.
Even in the peak moments of pleasure with Jasper, I always knew I had to be on guard, that I was always in danger. It turned me on that he was a feral beast who bowed to no man or woman, who could turn on me and rip me apart at any moment.
That used to be part of the fun. Flirting with destruction, danger. The allure of Jasper as a teenager was a whisper of that. Him as an adult was a roar, both of them a siren song to me. Up until recently.
I forced myself not to end the kiss early, though my body was screaming at me to do so.
Pulling back before Jasper did was a sign of weakness, so I endured. I couldn’t know how long he’d carry on, how far he’d take it. His hand was already palming my ass, plastering our bodies together. Yet again, I willed myself to continue as revulsion overwhelmed me.
Eventually, Jasper stepped back, as I’d known he would. Although his will was as strong as mine, he was not one to indulge in public displays of affection. This role was obviously important to him and those who might’ve been watching were obviously powerful and dangerous.
His mouth hovered inches from mine as his chocolate-brown eyes searched my face. I watched them travel the contours of my expression, a very slight crease between his brows. My spine prickled. Although I knew my mask was without cracks, Jasper sensed something had changed about me, and that meant he’d dig and dig until he found what that was. To exploit it.
I met his gaze and held it for a full ten seconds before I stepped back. “Are we going to stand here like two star-crossed lovers, or are you going to get me a cocktail?”
The crease remained for a handful of moments before his expression cleared. I didn’t take that as me getting off the hook. I wasn’t that stupid. I knew that as long as Jasper lived, I’d have to guard against him. I’d never be free of him.
He motioned ahead, then I walked in front of him, tasting acid at the thought of my inescapable future.
One that would always involve Jasper.
At least until one of us was dead.
The car ride was silent. Although the air was thick with energy, with the knowledge that Jasper had brought me here for his own purposes, with the satisfaction of me being beholden to him, he was also serving other masters too.
He wouldn’t waste a moment of our time together. Everything he did served more than one purpose, fed more than one proverbial beast. The silence was just part of the game, him trying to unnerve me, make me uncomfortable. But I’d played long enough, so I looked out the window, tapped on my phone, replying to emails with a feigned ease even though I was tenser than I’d ever been in his presence.
The lights of Vegas passed by, people crowding the streets like locusts, full of color, stumbling, laughing as if their problems were nothing but phantoms. That’s why people came here after all, to gamble away futures and forget about the past.
It was a city that denoted extreme wealth, which had people coming in droves, the promise of riches when the reality was nothing but ruin. Smoke and mirrors… The lights, the hotels, the overpriced drinks and food. Vegas took from you as you cosplayed as someone with power, wealth.
For the 99 percent, at least. We were here as part of the 1 percent. The powerful, insanely rich, and more often than not, borderline evil. You couldn’t become one of the 1 percent without selling a little of your soul.
He drove into underground parking at one of the most expensive hotels on the strip, forgoing the valet. We continued until we reached a shadowy edge of the lot, free of cars. When Jasper got out, I waited for him to open my door. He was cosplaying as a gentleman today.
I didn’t know what my role was, but I’d dressed to his instruction. The blood-red dress I was wearing was a halter, dipping lower in the front than I was partial to, my boobs spilling out to more than what was decent.
My hair was out in wild curls—which was rare for me, since I didn’t like how the espresso locks softened my face, making me look more feminine. Also, leaving my hair down made it easier for men to grab.
I’d gone for simpler makeup for that very reason. The sharp cat eye and lipstick I painted on daily worked to make my face harsher, more severe, less pleasing to men.