Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 156392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
His thumb finds my clit and he rubs and teases me in circles as he fucks me into oblivion.
I’m so wet, the in-and-out of his cock echoes in the room like a dark symphony of lust. It’s obscene that I’m even getting so into this considering the circumstances, but I am, so much so, I grow more aroused with each measured thrust.
Eli pulls out almost completely, then drives in again, hitting a sensitive spot inside me.
A violent sensation thrashes through me. White stars dance behind my eyes as I let it wash over me in a consuming wave. I bite his finger harder as muffled moans slip out of me.
The orgasm is the strongest I’ve ever had, but also the most painful.
“Christ. Fuck!” He grabs a handful of my waist as he goes deep and fast, his teeth sinking into the side of my neck, sucking the flesh.
“Mine,” he growls against my neck as he comes inside me in one ruthless go and warmth fills me.
And then his lips replace his finger as he kisses me senseless. It’s a mess of teeth, tongues, and primal frustration that spreads from inside me to where we’re connected.
Being kissed by Eli is a beautiful torment. It’s addictive. It’s toxic. It’s sweetly poisonous.
He pulls out of me and I feel sticky wetness sliding down my thighs.
I’m still reeling from the throbbing orgasm as he nips my lips one final time before he pulls back.
He holds my arm as I turn around, probably sensing I’m unable to stand on my own.
My dress is still bunched up to my waist and I follow his darkened eyes as they take in the sight of his cum mixed with my blood. The pink fluid slides down my thighs and pools in my precious shoes.
“Guess this means I didn’t cheat on you,” I whisper, my voice hoarse, my body aching everywhere.
Down to my stupid heart.
He steps toward me. I hold up a hand. “Stay the hell away from me.”
I straighten my dress as much as possible, my lips set in a dignified line as I resist the urge to bawl my eyes out.
There’s no way in hell I’ll let him see me break down. Not now.
Once I’m done, I turn around to leave.
A jacket is draped around my shoulders and Eli pulls the pins from my hair, setting it free. His scent saturates my nostrils and I loathe that I take any form of solace from it. Or the fact that he smells a bit like me.
Though something tells me his darkness will stifle my flowery scent soon enough.
He’s destructive like that.
“I told you—”
My words end in a yelp when he picks me up and carries me in his arms. “To stay away. I heard. As it seems, I refuse to let you walk out in front of the entire world looking freshly fucked and allow small-dicked simpletons to picture how you look in the throes of passion. So unless you’re in the mood to watch me go on a murder spree, stay fucking still.
I look away as my chin trembles and a bitter tear slides down my cheek.
The ride back to the house passes in a blur. I’m so tired, I want to fall asleep and possibly not wake up.
Not face the reality of whatever happened tonight.
My thoughts are a jumbled mess of violent emotions and hungry desire. A sick need for more and a wish to never do this again.
So I do just that. I lean my head against the window and close my eyes. My hyperawareness of Eli’s presence doesn’t stop me from going under.
In my sleepy haze, I feel large hands pulling me away from the window. Something soft wipes the insides of my sticky thighs and gently strokes my sore pussy.
I let out a whimper. Eli curses under his breath.
Or I think he does.
When I come back to the world of the living, I feel him carrying me in his arms. I’m still wearing his jacket and morbidly invaded by his scent.
I can’t escape it or him.
It’s like I’m stuck in a loop.
Instead of opening my eyes, I keep them shut. The last thing I want is a confrontation with him. I feel so raw. So fragile. So emotional.
If I speak, he’ll dish out his favorite description of me—dramatic—and shelve me as mentally unstable.
And that’s not what I want him to think of me.
Even if I actually am. Even if he’s well aware of my situation. The panic attack he witnessed a few weeks ago should be the only thing he knows of my true self.
So I remain relaxed, eyes closed, hands tucked in my lap as he walks to what I assume is the entrance hall.
“Is everything okay?” Sam’s voice filters through.
He comes to a halt and I feel his eyes studying my face so intently, I resist the urge to squirm. “Not quite.”