Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
My mind swirled, trying to keep up with the chaotic tornado of back and forth. Cold reality pulling me apart. Soothing warmth holding me together. The harsh truth of knowing I should fight Lucian. The blissful oblivion calling me into its promise of peaceful quiet.
Back and forth.
I was bent over a desk.
I shouldn’t be.
Back and forth.
A part of me waited for another strike to send tingling heat along my spine.
A part of me demanded I stand up and smack him in return.
Back and forth.
It was too much. It wasn’t enough.
I needed up. I needed to stay.
I needed out. I never wanted to leave.
I needed to be alone and let this pass. I needed him to continue.
I just needed to let this pass. I didn’t want it to stop.
Back and forth.
One thing remained the same on either side I landed. I still couldn’t control my breathing. The space between his hits left me reeling in my head. I still gasped, spun and spun and spun, trying to make it stop. Trying and failing again and again to find solid ground.
Why was I like this? Why was I like this? WhywasIlikethiswhywasIlikethis?
I couldn’t breathe.
Smack.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
The collection of stings shot up my spine, halting my gasping breaths under the hand pinning me to the desk, applying more and more pressure against my chest. He held me there, constricting my lungs, controlling the speed of my gasping inhales.
“Breathe,” he ordered, lifting his hand, allowing my muscles to expand to their full capacity. The muscles stretched in relief after the intense pressure of the panic.
After another deep breath, he slowly increased the pressure before releasing again.
Smack. Smack.
The sharp sting of pain radiated around my hips.
I sucked in another deep breath and clenched my fists as if trying to hold on to the moment of air filling my lungs.
More smacks.
More pressure.
More breaths.
Somewhere along the way, I forgot what brought me there. I forgot where there was. I forgot about the back and forth. I forgot about everything except the sting, the pressure, and the breath.
I forgot everything except letting go.
“Good girl.” Lucian’s deep voice permeated the hazy calm. Logically, I knew I should’ve balked at the praise like I was a puppy.
But with my head pressed to the smooth wood of his desk, my breaths coming easier than they had all week, I couldn’t find it in me. In fact, it was like his praise was exactly what I’d been waiting for-for-for…I didn’t want to think about how long.
So long I hadn’t realized I’d been waiting.
My ass tingled and stung under his soothing hand. The cynical part of my mind waited for him to start inching up my skirt and cross a line.
My body shook with a silent laugh.
Cross the line?
We’d more than crossed the line and about seventy-six others.
The line didn’t exist anymore.
Despite the situation, he never pushed for anything sexual. Thank God because I didn’t know what I would say. The soft stroke of his palm enhanced the lingering sting, bringing my skin to life.
The blissful oblivion called, and I sank into it.
I breathed easier and stopped fighting the back and forth. I sank into the humming silence and turned my mind off. I stopped trying to piece it together and let it all go, becoming aware of everything else—every sensation—without thought.
How the burning heat extended from my ass to between my legs.
How my muscles melted into submission.
How the bite of pain created a pulse that connected a chain from my core to my pebbled nipples.
How wet my panties were.
“Feel better?” he asked. The gentle, deep tone sent a shiver down my spine to my core, making my pussy spasm with need.
I inhaled and bit my lip, too scared my words would give away the desperate, aching need growing inside me. Instead, I nodded against the desk.
He stroked up my back and then down one last time before stepping away. With shaking arms, I pressed myself off the desk and stood. I kept my gaze low, too fucking scared of what I’d find if I looked at him—too fucking scared of what I’d do.
“I should go,” I muttered. Not waiting for a response, I turned and packed my tote, grateful I’d planned to leave right after the interview. I needed to get out of that building and as far away from Lucian Daire as physically possible.
He’d softened something inside me, and I couldn’t bring myself to study it too closely. Despite my determination to ignore it, I still felt it. This mix of the walls closing in, increasing a building pressure and somehow lighter, as if someone took part of the weight I always carried around.
With my bag clutched tight, I eyed the exit. Just a handful of steps more.
I’d almost made it when I hesitated.
Knowing I’d regret it, but needing to see if his face matched the gentle calm of his tone, I turned, stealing a glance over my shoulder.