Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
I’m used to the brutality that’s required to get what I want. I get off on wielding power.
Curving over her, still gripping her mane of hair, I run my hand down her cheek and neck, letting my fingertips play over the swell of her breast. Everything about her is young and fresh, her unblemished skin, the firmness of her ripe body. The dress isn’t especially low cut, but it’s low enough that when I let my fingers drift, the very tip brushes her nipple within the lace cup of her bra. She gasps, and I smile. “See. You might pretend to hate me, but your nipples tell a different story.” I take one between my thumb and forefinger and twist, not to hurt but to arouse. To make a point that she is mine, and I can do whatever the fuck I want to her at any time.
“Stop,” she says, but her voice is breathy.
“You don’t want me to stop. Not really. Look at your eyes.” I twist her head so Alexis can see how wide her pupils are blown. “You look like you’re strung out on molly.”
“Fuck you,” she spits again.
I pull my hand from her dress and lick my index finger while she watches me with wide eyes. I crouch in front of her, still gripping the silky strands of her hair. Her shoulders strain as she tugs at the restraints on her wrists.
“Maybe, gattina, I should fuck you.”
She gasps as I push my hand between her legs, finding the fabric of her panties damp. I smile; the knowledge that she’s turned on a confirmation of what I already knew. Those moments at the wedding where our eyes kept meeting weren’t just about recognition. There was lust in her eyes. The kind of lust that’s laced with dark fear and even darker curiosity. Yesterday, after I spanked her, she was wet enough to soak through her dress.
I don’t push inside her, but I rest my finger at the unbreeched entrance to her body, my smile widening when her pussy contracts against my touch, her sweet little hole fluttering. Her hips shift, like she’s seeking more pressure and blood floods my dick.
“Should I fuck you? Break this little pussy open. Make you a woman with my thick cock?”
“No,” she grits out through a rigid jaw. She’s fighting with herself as much as she wants to fight me. Her body is talking to me, whispering secret fantasies and sweetness of the kind I haven’t thought to taste in a long time.
I press a little harder against her, so that the pad of my index finger slips inside her a little. She moans so softly, I’m the only one close enough to hear. My dick is iron, imagining breaking through her innocence so that she cries out in pain before pleasure. “Are you sure? I know how to make it hurt so good.”
“NO.”
I hold my finger in place as her body tightens around it. An invader. An intruder. Unwelcome but desired. She was wet, but she’s getting wetter. “So, gattina, how are you going to make up for me not getting inside your sweet little dripping cunt? What are you going to do for me to spare you?”
“I’ll do it,” she says, her body trembling, fluttering around my finger. “I’ll do the video.”
“Yes?” I reluctantly pull my hand away, my wet finger cooling where my lust still blazes out of control.
I stand and she relaxes into my touch, no longer fighting the grip in her hair.
Alexis starts the recording again and Aemelia focuses on the camera.
“Please, Papa. Please. Don’t let them hurt me. Don’t let them break me. Pleeaaase, Papa. Please come back before they…”
I jerk her head again, and she gasps.
“Enough.”
Alexis stops filming, his grin wide and pleased. “An Oscar-winning performance.”
I don’t let go of our little spitfire. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
The hatred in her eyes turns the warm coffee depths to midnight black. “I hate my father,” she says. “But you…”
“Ah, princess.” I press my hand over my heart. “What have I done to make you hate me?”
“Touched me.”
“You liked it.”
She grimaces. “Made me kiss your filthy feet.”
“There is nothing filthy about me, except my mind.”
“You made me kneel.”
“Why would you hate that? Is it so hard to submit to the will of another? Have I not cared for you? Fed you? Put a roof over your head? Clothes on your back? Are you not warm?”
Her eyes are murderous. “I don’t want any of it.”
“I could kill you now,” I hiss. “Snap your pretty neck like a chicken bone. Let your father come back for the pieces of your body, but I’m not a cruel man, at least not to those who don’t deserve it.”
She lowers her eyes like looking at me is too hard. I bring my index finger to my mouth and savor her flavor, the heady scent and taste filling my mind with desperate urges, then I swipe my thumb over her bottom lip, smearing the red lipstick. I bring it to my mouth and taste that too, watching her.