Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 37123 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37123 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
I pin her down, using the zip-tie from my pocket meant for her father to tie her wrists. Her ankles are next, even though I catch a foot to the face for my trouble first. The bandana from my belt is next, wrapped around her head to keep the panties acting as a gag firmly in her mouth.
I should be losing my shit, especially with this gorgeous creature writhing and squirming beneath me. But not me. I’m calm, methodical. I wrap the towel around her and tug it tight, and she screams again as I lift her up and toss her over my broad shoulder.
Here goes fucking nothing.
I grab her phone and purse from a side table and storm over to the door and glare out of the peephole. Across the hall, the door is now closed, thank fucking God. I open Leonard’s door and poke my head out of the door into the hall, seeing that the coast is clear before I step out. I carry my thrashing little wildcat of a captive down the hall to the maintenance room, and the cargo elevator beyond that. The car is downstairs in the garage, fueled up and ready to go.
The plan stays. I’ve just changed it up a little.
Or a whole fucking lot.
We step in, and I take a deep breath as the doors close, trying to calm the beast inside of me that roars at the feel of her bare skin and tight little curvy body writhing and grinding against my shoulder. The doors open to the parking garage, and I poke my head out to take a look.
Empty.
I’m a bike man through and through, but for this, I’ve brought the Charger. I move fast, my cock still so fucking hard and tenting my jeans as she tries to fight me. At the car, I pop the trunk and then set her down on her bare feet, pinning her to the side of the car with one hand on her hip, the other on her neck—not squeezing, but just there as I look her right in the eyes.
Fuck.
Yeah, that was a mistake. Because one look in those baby blue pools, and I just want her—right here, right now, come what may. I want to crush my lips to hers, and spread those legs, and rip that towel away. I want to sink my tongue in her little cunt and drink down every single drop before I let her slide down on my cock.
She glares right back at me, looking terrified, but also looking so fierce and furious.
“Listen to me,” I growl. Her eyes narrow in fury at me, and I grin. Shit I like that—that she might be scared, but is still ready to tear my fucking head off.
“We can do this two ways. You can sit in the car like a normal person and keep quiet while we drive out, or if you don’t think you can handle that, there’s always…”
I gesture with my eyes at the open trunk, and Nicole’s eyes narrow.
“Fnnngruu!!!”
I almost laugh. Yeah, that’s definitely her saying “fuck you” through the panty-gag.
“I’m not here to hurt you, sweetheart,” I growl. “But you are coming with me.”
“Fnnngruuuufnngingprshshhhhttt!!!” She roars as she lunges forward, headfirst. I hiss as she catches me right in the fucking nose with the top of her head, wincing at the hit and snarling as I shove her back.
“Right, so trunk it is.”
She kicks and squirms and writhes, but she’s no match for me. I’ve got easily a foot on her, and probably a hundred pounds of muscle. Deftly, heedless of her muffled screams and kicks, I lay her down into the trunk and close it. I take a step back, breathing heavily, my pulse racing.
…My cock still so fucking hard it could tear a hole in my jeans right now.
But the bottom line is, I’ve got her.
And now, she’s mine.
Chapter Two
Nicole
The hot water streams over my skin, and I finally, finally, feel the stress of the day easing out of me. Actually, it’s more like the stress of the last month, or maybe a year, who knows. Whatever it is, I close my eyes, and try to let the rest of the world just fade away.
Coming back to Boston is never a pleasant experience for me, and if history says anything, this trip back home in particular should be horrible. It’s my mom’s birthday this weekend, which is never a joyous occasion, seeing as my mother is the type who’s going kicking, screaming, and surgically enhanced into older age.
This time, however, I got a small reprieve before diving into the viper’s nest of my parents’ house. Since I have an important interview set up at Harvard this weekend—tomorrow, actually—as part of my law school application. Since I was flying in so late, I mentioned maybe just staying at my dad’s downtown condo for the night instead of driving all the way out to the suburbs only to drive right back in tomorrow morning.