Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 163328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 817(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 817(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Priest’s flintlock pistol…gripped in his free hand… He was holding a gun to my head.
Enthusiastic voices raved in the audience, but I didn’t hear anything they said. My mouth filled with hot sand, my mind blank with incomprehension.
Why was he doing this? Was this a private war in which a jealous husband wreaked vengeance on his wife and her lover? Or was it part of his plan to help us escape?
I had to trust him. No matter what, I had to believe he wasn’t here to hurt me.
“Hold this, would you?” Priest said to the man-eating giant leaning against the wall.
The bearded ogre approached and took the flintlock.
“Careful with the trigger. It’s loaded.” Priest gripped the barrel, pushing the man’s hand farther away from my head. “I just cleaned the flint. It’ll spark with barely a twitch. If you spray my face with powder, I’ll open your throat before I die, no mistake.”
The ogre chuckled in a deep baritone. “I know how to use a pistol, mate.”
It wasn’t loaded. I couldn’t tell by looking at it, but Priest would never take such a risk with my life. No one here knew that, though. Including Ashley.
Priest released Ashley’s throat and gripped my hips with both hands. The gravity of what was about to happen crushed my lungs in a vise grip. If we lived, how would we move past this? What did my future even look like with a husband and a lover and…
Stop. Not helping.
I slowly lowered my chest to Ashley’s, tucking my bound hands beneath our chins. Priest followed me down, his weight pressing against my back.
“You’ve put me through hell, sweetheart.” His hand slid beneath the shirt covering my backside and moved around near his groin, presumably lining himself up with my body. Then he rested his mouth against my cheek and spoke so quietly I barely heard it. “It’s been two years since I’ve fucked you, Mrs. Farrell.”
My heart stopped, and my gaze flew to Ashley.
His eyes widened. His chiseled nostrils pulsed, and his entire body flexed beneath me. Then he slid his hands away from my cunt.
“Scream,” Priest whispered and thrust his hips.
Every muscle between my legs clenched, bracing for the burning, stretching agony of a dry invasion. His pelvis rammed into my backside. He groaned with wicked pleasure, and I felt… Nothing.
No intrusion.
No forceful stabbing.
No penetration.
Was he even hard?
Realization punched me in the gut, and I screamed, cursing my delayed reaction. The sound muffled through the gag and shattered the air. He thrust again, and I drew out my cries, sobbing and stiffening as if I were dying of trauma.
He never intended to rape me. Of course, he didn’t. The shadowed corner, the positioning of our bodies, the placement of Ashley’s hands—all of it had a purpose. To what end, I didn’t know. Perhaps he was buying time.
Ashley furiously growled his misery, his eyes wild with madness. But he knew it was all a ruse. His hands fisted between my legs, awkwardly and undeniably, in contact with Priest’s cock.
Priest proved to be a remarkable actor. He groaned lewd promises of torture for the room to hear and worked his hips like a savage in the throes of rapturous violence. With his fingers curled around my hips, he kept his groin tight against my backside and roughened the sounds of his breaths.
My shirt covered my thighs, and he still wore his breeches. No one was the wiser from any angle they viewed us.
And view us, they did. The revelry of whistles and stomping grew louder, every man in the cottage saluting Priest’s conquest with shouts of encouragement. The ogre wasn’t even training the gun on me anymore, his attention absorbed by his friends as they bantered back and forth.
Amid the noise, Priest leaned down against my back and gripped Ashley’s hair.
“She didn’t tell you, did she?” He pressed closer, making sure Ashley could read his lips. “She’s mine, Cutler.” He thrust, jarring me against Ashley. “My wife.”
I sobbed harder, forcing the sounds and faking the tears. But the pain was real. I knew what it felt like to be betrayed and didn’t wish that on Ashley. I never wanted him to learn about my marriage like this.
It could’ve been avoided. I should have told him when I woke on the beach or in the lagoon or while we were still on his ship. There’d been hundreds of opportunities, and I’d put it off like a coward. I was wretched.
His eyes shifted to mine, and what I saw there wasn’t resentment or hatred. His gaze moved over my face, warm with understanding. He looked at my shirt, the jade stone at my throat, and returned to my eyes.
I knew in my gut that he was thinking about the conversation we’d had when I was clad in another man’s shirt.