Bleeding Hearts Read online A. Zavarelli (Bleeding Hearts #1-2)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Billionaire, Dark, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Bleeding Hearts Series by A. Zavarelli
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Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 162003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 810(@200wpm)___ 648(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
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He must have known what I was thinking, because he flashed a smile, baring all of his teeth. The same teeth that had sunk into every part of my body.

“What’s the matter, Brighton?” he mocked. “You said you wanted it to be me, so surely, you can’t be that upset.”

He released his hand from my mouth and pressed his erection into my belly. This was turning him on.

“Why are you doing this?” I rasped. “I would have given myself to you without a fight.”

“Perhaps.” He looked doubtful. “But not in the way I wanted.”

“Let me go,” I pleaded. “Just let me leave. I need time… time to think about all this…”

His lips stole my protests with brute force as he lifted my legs and secured them around his waist. When he unzipped his pants and pushed my thong aside, a mew escaped me before I could stop it. He rubbed the head of his cock against my own demented arousal with a satisfied grunt. And then he was inside me.

I still couldn’t reconcile that this was the same man who had taken my virginity. The only man who had ever been inside of me. But when he started to move, I was certain. Nobody else could ever feel like this. I didn’t care if I had nothing else to compare it to, I knew it in my bones. He had a primitive need to claim me that could never be replicated.

Our bodies slammed against the door as he pushed deeper. I had no choice but to wrap my arms around his neck and hold on as he fucked me savagely. His hands and lips and mouth and teeth were everywhere. Devouring me. He showed no concern about anyone hearing us. When I started to moan around him, he bit my shoulder, leaving another mark for the world to see.

On instinct, I buried my own teeth in his neck, biting until I tasted the metallic tang of his blood against my tongue. It satisfied me in a way I didn’t expect, but it satisfied him too.

He carried me to the sofa and bent me over it. His hand gripped my hip as the other pulled down the zipper of my dress, revealing the lines he’d left on my back from this weekend.

His fingers traced over them again and again as his hips crashed into me.

His breaths were coming even harsher than before. The room was completely quiet, save for the slapping of his skin against mine. I felt the sheer power of his thighs as they flexed behind me, the strain of his bicep as he held me in place. He was so strong, I would never escape his grasp, even if I wanted to.

His darkness bled into me, inch by torturous inch, consuming me from the inside out. It made me feel powerful. It made me feel free. It made the next words that flew from my mouth a plea that he never stopped.

He was dark and twisted, but maybe I was too. Maybe that’s why we found each other. It was the addiction I was drunk on, and the same addiction that drove me over the edge.

I combusted around him, milking him for all it was worth with every wave of release that rolled through me. And when it was all over, he exploded inside of me, filling me so completely I never wanted to move again.

For a long time, we didn’t. He held onto me as though I still might bolt at any moment. I was too weak to even consider it. When he finally pulled out, my body felt his absence immediately.

The cool air danced along my exposed skin until he zipped my dress up and put me back together. Then he spun me around and brushed his thumb over the fresh bite mark on my shoulder. My eyes drifted to the angry red marks I’d left on his neck, but instead of regret, there was a deep sense of pride. Because I’d claimed him too.

Who was this woman, and what had become of me? I didn’t bite men or have rough, angry sex. I didn’t fall for the man who was hurting my family. My brother.

My eyes snapped to the blue irises of the creature before me, and I couldn’t make him out. Was he a monster, or was he a man? When I looked at him, I could only see a man. One who’d been hurt somehow and deep-down was vulnerable. But when I thought about what he was doing to Brayden, I knew he couldn’t do those things unless he was a monster.

“Brighton.” He gripped me around the waist and pulled me close. “This changes nothing.”

His tone was firm and confident, but his eyes betrayed him. In the depths of those eyes, I could see the question he was asking. For my reassurance. That our agreement was still on and that he still had claim over my body and life.


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