Punished: A SciFi Alien Romance by L.V. Lane & Liv Lane

Author:L.V. Lane & Liv Lane [Lane, L.V. & Lane, Liv]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-04-11T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIVE

Avery

“I WANT YOU to introduce a new character,” he says. I’m still sitting on his lap. I’ve been sitting here all day. I don’t claim it to be a comfortable thing. But it’s not uncomfortable either. If I’m honest with myself, I quite like sitting on his lap and the strange tingly awareness growing between us.

“What sort of character?” I glance back at him over my shoulder, but he’s giving me an indecipherable look.

Then his lips tug up on one side, showing a fang, and he says. “I want you to introduce yourself.”

I try to get down. He’s having none of it. I realized he was going to change the story to his liking. Maybe try to write back the person that he lost . . . the person I’m not allowed to talk about.

I don’t think it would be possible, but I expected him to try.

But I didn’t expect him to write me in. “How can I introduce myself? How can I write myself into my own story?” I ask.

He shrugs. “No idea, but I have faith in my creator. We’ll start this chapter with you describing yourself.”

His hands shift on my waist, one giant hand slides so that it is pressed over my tummy. “Or, if you don’t fancy writing, I could check your ass for damage and try inserting my dick again.”

If he was looking for a predictable reaction, I’m pretty sure he got it. He only laughs, amused at my expense as I splutter my outrage. I feel him lean back, settling into the seat. “Better start writing, baby.”

I do because I sense this is not open to negotiation. And I’d rather do anything than go through that again.

Long ebony hair, blue eyes, five-five with too much ass…I pause because ‘too much ass’ is not going to cut it.

He growls. Leaning forward, he pulls the keyboard to the front of the desk and begins deleting and tapping new words.

I stare at his hands. Those huge, scarred hands that he was probably thinking about killing me with when he first put them on me a week ago. It’s not until he sits back that I remember to look at what he wrote.

. . . an ass I want to sink my fangs into and tits that make me drool. . .

“That’s not me,” I say, scoffing and getting hot all at once. When I turn back, I see him smirking.

“It’s how I see you.”

“It’s how I’m going to see you,” he amends, eyes turning hooded like he’s thinking about me naked. “I think I’ve earned the right to some input given all the shit you’ve put me through.”

And just like that, all the humor is gone.

I feel bereft in a way Peter leaving me never caused. I feel lonely, although I rarely do.

He stands and deposits me on the chair on my own. It feels odd and uncomfortable after sitting on his lap for many hours while we read the story. He begins pacing the small room.

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