Falon's Captivity (Spanked Wives #3)
Trent Evans
I didn’t know what was worse anymore — when he opened that door, or when he closed it.
How many times had I wondered? How many minutes had I counted until they’d fallen away in the blackness, as unmoored, lost, and hopeless as I felt?
But there wasn’t time for that.
The only thing that mattered was figuring him out. What was he really after? What did he truly want?
For the thousandth time, I cursed my stupidity, my hubris, my idiotic conviction that I could pull this off. It was a cruel irony of fate that a single, impulsive, split second decision could profoundly influence the rest of a person’s life.
However long that might be.
I missed clothes — real clothes — not the all-access outfits he made me wear now. No, what I was allowed was little more than decoration, embellishment of the physical attributes of his new found toy.
How much more of this could I take? How much more did he intend to put me through?
What was the end game, when he finally got what he demanded?
I already suspected, deep down, that there could only be one end to this, a single conclusion to what this had become. My strength was ebbing away. I couldn’t deny it any longer.
What was the worse though was the temptation, the increasingly appealing prospect of simply...surrendering.
And giving him what he wanted...