Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 172(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 172(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
Massimo's gaze turned grim at Cesare's continued refusal to speak. "I cannot just watch and say nothing when I see my own brother hell-bent on ruining his life. Penelope is not the problem here, fratello. It is you and your feelings—"
"I do not have feelings for her," Cesare denied tightly. "I know it's not what you wish to hear, but it's the fucking truth. I don't love her—-and I never will."
Penelope
Silence is an insidious twat.
At first I'm basking in the afterglow of being surrounded by family, but as the minutes tick by, my eyes start to droop...and before I know it, I'm falling back into the bloody, thorny arms of my nightmares, and I'm forced to relive everything I've been desperately trying to run away from.
The deafening, soul-eating sound of endless gunshots. The screech of wildly spinning tires and the stench of burnt rubber. And because nightmares like this always save the worst for last—-a demon sinks its claws into my flesh and turns me into a puppet.
No, please, no.
But I'm powerless to stop the demon from forcing my hands to hold a gun, point it at that man's head, and then I'm pulling the trigger—-
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.
The demon doesn't allow me to stop firing even as the man's face has completely split open, his skull shattered into pieces, and his brain looking like stupid freaking macaroni—-
I wake up with a voiceless scream trapped in my throat, and I end up puking my guts out for the second time.
I'm sorry, God, I'm sorry.
I brush my teeth several times and step into the shower in a foolish attempt to wash away my sin. Punishingly cold water blasts down my shivering body, but guilt still scorches me from within.
I walk back into the room, still trembling and naked and hurting.
I know can't go on like this.
I just can't—-
The bedroom door slowly open, and as soon as Cesare walks back in, the first thing I see is the agony etched over the sculpted edges of his gorgeous face, and it's the exact same torment haunting my own soul.
I don't know why he's hurting. All I know is that it's hurting me even more to see him suffering...because I love him.
I think it's time I admit the undeniable.
He owns me because I want him, owns me because I need him. And the one reason he will never lose me is because I love him.
I love Cesare Marchetti, and that's why I know. He's the only one who can truly heal me, and as he suddenly hauls me against his body—-I can only reach up to lay a trembling hand against his cheek. I'm hoping, even if he's yet to love me back, that my touch may heal his pain, too.
"What's wrong?" I whisper.
He shakes his head before slowly letting me go...in order to step back and stare at me. The shadows in his gaze gradually fade, and replacing it is a glitter of lust that has his eyes devouring every inch of my naked flesh.
"I want to fuck you," Cesare says roughly.
"Then fuck me," I say unevenly. "Keep your promise and don't let me sleep another night a v-virgin who still doesn't know what it feels like to have your cock inside of me—-"
He lowers his head with a groan, and the moment his mouth swoops down in a kiss so ruthlessly deep his tongue reaches the back of my throat—-
Aaaaaaah.
Passion explodes between us, and all rules are forgotten. They say a girl's first time is supposed to be slow and gentle, tender and loving.
But this girl is different.
The things that have shaped my life up to this very moment makes me different, and all I want is to lose myself in his possessive embrace. All I need right now is for the forceful power of sex to break me, to just stop me from thinking in any way so that all I can do is feel what it likes to be owned—-
"C-Cesare!"
I cry out in a mixture of fear, shock, and excitement when he suddenly spins me around, and I find myself bent over the edge of the bed, my already-aching breasts flat against the covers, feet on the floor, and my ass up in the air.
The sound of his fingers working his zipper down is enough to make moisture coat the swollen folds of my pussy, and my fingers curl helplessly against the bed. It feels like things are happening too fast, but at the same time it also feels like things aren't happening fast enough, and I find myself writhing at the restless clamor of heat pulsating deep in my belly.
"P-Please..."
I'm not even sure what I'm pleading for, but the moment I feel him sliding the thick, throbbing length of his erection up and down against the crack of my ass—-