Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 100563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
She was naked.
Her skin flushed despite the ice falling over us.
Her nipples puckered, her belly quivered, a slick of lubricant glinted on her inner thigh.
My cock hardened to the point of excruciation. “You dare be wet for a monster like me?” I shoved her against the wall and, once again, grabbed two handfuls of her gorgeous ass. I spread her cheeks, hauled her up, and slammed her against the iridescent tile. “Do I turn you on? Knowing I’m barely human? Knowing I’m hanging on by a thread?”
She shuddered as I pressed my body into hers.
“I’m wet for the man I’m in love with.”
“A man who no longer exists.”
Goosebumps scattered over her skin. “Don’t say that.”
“Don’t be honest?”
Even in my fury, we were in sync.
Her legs wrapped around my hips as I thrust into her pussy.
Her lips rose as mine crashed down.
Our kiss connected as our bodies joined.
I stabbed into her.
A vicious, unrelenting possession.
Her cry echoed from her mouth to mine, but I didn’t stop.
I didn’t let her adjust.
I rode her all while dirt and decay sluiced down my body and onto hers.
We fucked in absolute filth and I was neither apologetic nor contrite.
Our kiss broke apart as I set a punishing rhythm. Our noses bruised, our foreheads bumped, our lips stayed wide and open, two silent screams as we clawed and attacked each other, sometimes kissing, mostly biting, both intent on destruction.
Her fire combated the icy shower. Her salvation tried to dilute my rage.
I pumped over and over, doing my best to punish her for ever showing me what happiness could be.
I took her until the first tightening tangles of an orgasm clenched my belly and balls. I used her until the first clench of her pussy announced she reached the same pinnacle as me.
And then, I stopped.
I withdrew.
I dropped her to the floor, wincing at my engorged cock and turning my back on her.
I sadistically took us to the edge where we might’ve found peace and denied us.
I denied us because we didn’t fucking deserve it.
Her frustration puffed on my back as she panted. Her tiny mewl of need made pre-cum ooze out my tip. I trembled with the unbearable need to spin and finish what we’d started.
But...I wanted the torture.
I needed it.
I needed to live in that blistering, brutalising pain.
She could finish herself off. She could seek a cure for her agony.
But I wouldn’t.
Not while I wore the death of so many innocent things.
Get it off me.
In a sudden panic, my desire to be clean overrode the crippling need to come.
Grabbing a bottle of coconut body wash, I dumped half the contents into my palm and scrubbed. I used nails to serrate my skin from entrails and innards. I attacked myself as if I was the enemy...because in reality, I was.
I lost myself in the mantra of cleanliness, clawing and scratching until trickles of crimson sluiced down the drain thanks to the sleet pounding from above.
Delicate hands touched my back. Sweet, formidable hands rubbing soap into my rotten flesh and down my spine.
My chin fell on my chest as the heaviest groan slipped from my lips. Eleanor sniffed back all the grief I’d caused and systematically rid my back, ass, thighs, and calves of any remains of Serigala.
I couldn’t move.
My arms hung useless by my sides, swaying beneath the spray, corrupted and controlled entirely by a woman who would never permit me to send her away.
Once she’d cleansed my back, she squeezed herself between me and the wall, her nakedness slippery against mine.
Our eyes locked, shouting so many things.
I hated that a stare wasn’t just a stare between us. A look wasn’t just a look but an entire paragraph of problems, turning into a battle of wills, forearming her with a rebuttal against anything I might decree.
I love you.
I know.
You have to leave.
Never.
She winced as she broke our stare, tracing the shallow scratches I’d covered myself with. I hissed as she soaped me, the coconut wash stinging my wounds. I closed my eyes with a haggard sigh, permitting a sliver of softness.
She washed me with reverence and worship, making my heart swell and suffocate.
Her hands slipped down my belly, making me twitch. She slowly, steadily lulled me into accepting a ceasefire, all while my heart chugged with memories, and charred whiskers filled my nose, and my mind was an amalgamated graveyard of extinction.
My rage blended with grief.
My fury fused with despair.
My muscles stopped seizing with nightmares and, just for a moment, I inhaled clean, untainted air.
But then, she touched me where she shouldn’t have.
Her tight fingers fisted my cock, igniting pain and reminding me of my inadequacy. Reminding me that she shouldn’t fucking be here. That I was running out of time. That she wasn’t safe, no one was safe.
She had to go.
My temper barrelled through the thin veil of calm she’d granted. I grunted as her sinful lips encircled my erection.