Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
In the next breath, his lips are on mine. Kissing me. Tasting me. Fueling this craving for him that I can no longer deny. He fumbles with the zipper on his pants and removes his cock while he blazes a trail of hot kisses down over my throat, and eventually, my nipples.
When he sucks my breast between his teeth, my hands find refuge in the dark, silky strands of his hair. I’m sore, but I want him. No, I need him inside me again. When I drag my fingers down over his shoulders, he bumps the head of his cock against me.
I suck in a breath, shivering as he begins to push his thick, hard flesh inside me. He’s so fucking big, everywhere. His hands, his dick, his gladiator body. He could crush me. Smother me. Choke me. But right now, he isn’t Thorsen, the dark prince. He’s Thorsen, the gentle lover, kissing my face as he waits for my body to give way to him. I can’t even pretend there’s any other option as I melt beneath his touch. How little it takes for him to bend me to his will.
“Min gudinne.” His breath tickles my ear.
Using his palms to spread my thighs farther apart, he adjusts his body snugly into the space made just for him. He feeds his cock into me with a torturous slowness, his lips clashing with mine. And this is where we begin and end. He moves in me, rolling his hips, thrusting as his suit scrapes over my nipples. He’s poetry in motion, and each angle never fails to capture my attention all over again. He fucks me the way I imagine every woman must want to be fucked. It’s soft, and then rough, all-consuming, fire and passion.
I cling to him desperately, praying it never ends as his teeth scrape over my throat, my collarbone, the most sensitive places on my body. He sucks at my skin, tasting me as he thrusts deep into me, spiraling out of control.
“Come for me.” His hand moves between my thighs, and in a matter of seconds, he’s setting off an explosion.
The aftershocks are still crashing through me when he buries his cock with a growl, releasing himself inside me again. His fingertips come up to kiss my face reverently, and when his eyes meet mine, something changes between us. The earth stops moving, and everything becomes quiet and still. Does he realize it too? Does he know he just made love to me?
When I reach up to touch his face, his eyes fall shut. For one blissful moment, he gives in to me, leaning against my palm, breath ragged. How long has he been starving for this affection? How long has he gone without?
“Thorsen,” I whisper.
He opens his eyes again, and in a split second, everything changes. The shutters come down, and whatever softness I saw in him has been exiled to the darkest pit of his soul.
“What do you think you’re doing?” He grabs my hand and pulls my fingers away.
I blink, startled by the raw anger in his voice.
“I want to touch you,” I croak. “I like to touch you.”
“You want to trick me,” he accuses.
A million different emotions flash through his eyes in the span of a second. Fear, mistrust, doubt, confusion.
“It’s not a trick.” My voice wavers. “Not everything is a threat. Least of all me.”
His nostrils flare, and whatever trust I was hoping to gain obliterates when he pulls his cock out of me. Within seconds, he’s dragging me across the room and back to the cross. He intentionally turns me against the wood, so I can’t see him, and I realize as he’s restraining my hands and feet that this is his defense mechanism. He’s never allowed anyone to get close to him. He has to be in control. He has to have dysfunction. Is that why he’s shared every other woman with Calder?
“Who hurt you?” I demand.
Thorsen freezes, his hands on my ankle, and for a second, I think he might even answer me. But then he cinches the cuff tight, strapping me in for whatever punishment he thinks I deserve for getting under his skin.
His footsteps pad to the wall with all the devices of pain and torture, and I crane my neck to find him selecting a paddle. When his eyes meet mine again, they are so empty it scares me.
“Nobody can hurt me, Ella,” he says as he comes to a halt behind me. “Least of all you.”
He whips the paddle against my ass, forcing my body into the wooden frame as I suck in a sharp breath. There isn’t even time to think about it as he slaps me three more times, and I quickly notice a pattern developing. Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap. Always sets of four. Even when he’s sadistic, he’s ritualistic.