His Little Flower
337 Views · Ongoing · Kay Pearson
I spent months falling in love with a man who knew everything about me; I thought we were perfect for each other. Turns out, he'd spent months learning my every secret before I even knew his name. While I dreamed of his smile and his touch, he was watching me from the shadows.
Now I have a choice to make; either let him take me, body and soul, or ruin his life completely.
I thought I wanted to be someone's everything, until I became the wrong man's entirety.
Excerpt
With Caz, sex and threats are always the same sentence, always a cocktail of risk and reward. I am a fully grown adult who pays her own mortgage, but I'm also the kind of girl who gets off on being told what to do by a man who could break my arm with two fingers. We all contain multitudes.
“Alright. I promise to only ghost you if I’m hit by a train.”
He grunts approval, then rests a hand on my neck, squeezing just enough to get his threat across. He held me still, his hand like a leash. “Say it.”
It's so embarrassing. But I do it, because that's the game. The game where I spent half an hour on my hands and knees with his hand around my throat and his cock in my a**, feeling owned and stretched and completely at his mercy. Where he made me say "I won't ghost you" again and again, and then spanked me hard when I was too slow to get the words out, until I was babbling them like a prayer. I like the game. I want to play it again.
"I won't ghost you."
“Again,” he demands.
“I won’t ghost you,” I say, and I know I actually mean it.
Now I have a choice to make; either let him take me, body and soul, or ruin his life completely.
I thought I wanted to be someone's everything, until I became the wrong man's entirety.
Excerpt
With Caz, sex and threats are always the same sentence, always a cocktail of risk and reward. I am a fully grown adult who pays her own mortgage, but I'm also the kind of girl who gets off on being told what to do by a man who could break my arm with two fingers. We all contain multitudes.
“Alright. I promise to only ghost you if I’m hit by a train.”
He grunts approval, then rests a hand on my neck, squeezing just enough to get his threat across. He held me still, his hand like a leash. “Say it.”
It's so embarrassing. But I do it, because that's the game. The game where I spent half an hour on my hands and knees with his hand around my throat and his cock in my a**, feeling owned and stretched and completely at his mercy. Where he made me say "I won't ghost you" again and again, and then spanked me hard when I was too slow to get the words out, until I was babbling them like a prayer. I like the game. I want to play it again.
"I won't ghost you."
“Again,” he demands.
“I won’t ghost you,” I say, and I know I actually mean it.
























![Defeated [Shy Book 2]](https://oss.novelago.app/prod/img/cover/1e95562fb06f44beba6a4989beb0ff23.jpg?x-oss-process=image/format,webp/resize,m_fill,w_240,h_320)























