Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Could he not satisfy my curiosity before he dies tomorrow?
Heat prickles in my cheeks as I watch Dalton expose his broad, meaty chest and biceps the size of my damn head. He’s like a bull about to rut, and I see him as just that. A human animal whose raison d'être is fucking me. I don’t even dislike that his dark brown hair is messy and greasy after his time in the cell. I won’t tell him, but I might be into that. I’m not sure. I don’t have enough experience to reach a conclusion.
I’ve never bottomed for anyone, and I can come up with a hundred reasons why, but the truth is that the thought of anyone seeing me so vulnerable and submissive makes my chest constrict, until breathing gets tough. I am Corvus Van der Horn. People should respect me. Fear me, and any crack in my steely exterior might lead to my fall.
That’s what my father instilled in me. And he paid the ultimate price the last time I ignored his teachings. I cannot make that mistake again.
This time, however, my life is the only one I’m putting at risk.
Dalton is the perfect subject for my experiment. I keep my word. If he manages to make me happy in bed, I will give him the antidote. He won’t survive tomorrow’s hunt regardless. He’ll be shot dead, ripped apart by wolves, or freeze to death in the snow. But he doesn’t need to know that.
He’s making a deal with the devil, and those always come with a catch.
What matters is that he’s here, about to take a shower, and I’ll get to find out what a real cock feels like. In the fantasies that always get me off, men as tall and meaty as Dalton pin me to the bed, shove apart my legs and drill into me faster and harder than I ever could with my favorite dildo.
They take control of my body and make me come time after time, until my balls are so empty it hurts. To let someone have me like this in real life always felt too invasive. Dangerous. Maybe even a little humiliating. But this man is destined for death. My secrets shall follow him to his grave.
For now though, his heart is still beating, and I will let him mount me. He’ll be on top, but I have his life in my hands, remaining in control. The perfect solution. Like keeping a man in a shock collar, remote always in my hand while he fucks me.
Hm. Maybe something to ponder in the future.
I’m so distracted I’ve barely taken the cross off my tie. It’s impossible to focus when Dalton unzips his dirty jeans and I’m about to see what I’ve already got an eyeful of in his photos.
My mouth dries. My palms get sweaty. My heart beats faster.
But he stalls and… winks at me.
“You wanna help me out?” Dalton steps closer, as if I hadn’t told him to shower.
Is he… flirting? Does he not understand his position, or that we’re here to fuck, not have dinner by candlelight?
“You’ve… been here for two days,” I say, keeping my distance. He doesn’t smell nearly as badly as I’ve made it sound, but I haven’t spent the past two hours grooming and preparing myself for him to sweep in and fuck me without worrying about basic hygiene, even though there’s something irresistibly primal about the tart saltiness I’m smelling as he comes closer. He needs to know his place. “There’s a toothbrush by the sink.”
He sighs and pats his stomach. “Worth a shot. I appreciate the dehydration. Looks hot, right?” Dalton points out his abs. They’re not rippling like on some guys, but they’re definitely there. He’s so damn meaty it’s making me salivate. I wish I wasn’t attracted to his type so much, but I can’t choose these things. My first crush was my dad’s bodyguard, a guy who liked whiskey a bit too much, and only shaved once a week.
I’m happy when Dalton doesn’t try to argue and brushes his teeth like a good boy.
I take my time admiring a few scars on his tattooed back, and the thick, muscular ass, which shifts as he changes position, moving the firm legs covered with a pelt of dark hair. But then he’s done, and instead of heading under the shower, he approaches me in just a pair of socks that used to be white.
Oh God, what a cock...
I know comparisons to soda cans are cliché, but it’s not my fault he’s so damn thick! And he doesn’t need to overcompensate in the length department either, because that beauty is at least eight inches long. My own dick swells despite trepidation curling in the pit of my stomach. I couldn’t stand the humiliation of showing him that he hurt me. If having this gorgeous animal inside me turns out to be painful, will I be able to keep myself from expressing it?