Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22950 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 115(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22950 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 115(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
“I can’t,” she whispers.
Something occurs to me and it’s such a jarring possibility, my blood rolls into a quick boil. “Is there another man?” If I hadn’t been paying extremely close attention, I might have missed the spark of panic in her eyes. But I don’t miss it. And the already boiling temperature of my blood turns to an inferno. “Who the fuck is he?”
“No.” She shakes her head rapidly. “There’s no one. I swear.”
“Ophelia,” I grit out, feeling like my chest is caving in. “Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not!” she cries. “There’s no one that has ever made me feel like you. No one ever could. I scrubbed the floor way longer than necessary because I was trying to exhaust myself.” Tears spring to her eyes. “I was scared I’d never see you again. And scared I would. I don’t know how to feel about anything, but I…” She swipes at her damp eyes and my possessiveness wars with denial. She should never cry. “I know I need you to touch me so bad it hurts.”
I throw her over my left shoulder and march up the stairs, already unzipping my jeans with my right hand…
CHAPTER FIVE
Ophelia
With masculine Ezra inside my bedroom, its girlishness has never been more obvious.
When he sets me down at the foot of my bed, the full-length mirror to my right reflects back our height differences. I barely reach his shoulder. He’s easily double my size and riddled with muscle. All nine hundred of them flex while he looks me over, his hand busy inside his pants. He’s jerking his hard flesh, grunting. I’m arrested by the sight of his forearm. The play of veins and sinew that dance as he touches himself, hot eyes on me.
The man who I let into my house was intense, but sweet. He talked to me. Fed me chocolate. This man in my bedroom is jealous and angry. He wants to eat me alive.
I don’t know which side of him I’m drawn to more. But I’m drawn. So drawn.
Deep down, I’ve always known I had what it takes to be a bad girl. And I prove it by leaning my hips against the bed and arching my back, tossing my hair and letting him use my body as pornography. Isn’t that what I’m doing? Providing him with an image to make that big staff between his legs harder and harder, so he can put it inside me?
That’s what I want. If my heart wasn’t ripping through my chest with excitement, the spreading wetness between my legs would tell me how bad I need him. If I’m distracting him from his suspicion that there’s another man…well, that’s just an added bonus.
He can’t know.
He can never know there is another man. One I detest. One I despise.
One who is using my father’s folly to draw me into a disgusting web.
Don’t think about it now. Focus on the man you do want. Need.
“I’m your man, Ophelia,” Ezra rasps, taking his erection out in a tight fist and rubbing it on my bare stomach. “First, last. Only. Fucking mine.”
There are so many obstacles. Wagner. Princeton. His prison record—and my father’s reaction to it. None of those things seem to matter right now in the darkness of my bedroom, but I know in the morning reality will be back with a vengeance. I don’t want to voice my concerns now, though. I want Ezra to overwhelm me. Make me think of nothing but him. He’s looking down at me beneath drawn brows waiting for me to tell him, yes, I’m yours. But I can’t do that, knowing so many things stand in our way.
So I show him instead. I show him how much he owns me—body and spirit—even if he can’t in the other ways. I go down on my knees in front of him and strip off my shirt, tossing it away so I can run my hands up his thick, sturdy thighs. Looking up at his penis from below makes it seem even bigger. It extends out from a thatch of untamed black hair, a wide vein pulsing along the underside, a fat, helmet adorning the tip. Once at school, I overheard a classmate talking about a porno she found on her brother’s laptop wherein a man whipped a kneeling girl across the face with his erection. At the time, I found that terrible. Now? I would crawl over broken glass to have him whip me with that big thing. The sight of it is such a turn on to me, because I know I made it huge and hard and I’m the only one who gets to touch it.
“What are you thinking about down there, little girl?”
I rub my cheek against his inner thigh. “Nothing much. Just your penis slapping me across the face.”