Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
His pretty cock was long and hard between us. I stroked it, watched him move, this moment breathing more life into my body than I’d ever had before him.
“Fuck me. I need you to fuck me hard, Crow.”
I growled, hand on the back of his head and tugging him down to my mouth. I pushed my tongue inside while I fucked up and into him. I tasted his words, tasted his love as we lost ourselves to the punishing strokes of my body plunging into his. My balls were tight, full, body thrumming with need. I pulled his head back, saw the strained tendons in his neck, knew he was trying to make this last as much as I was.
Cyrus’s eyes were screwed shut, and no, that wouldn’t do. “Look at me, little lamb. Look me in the eyes while you come on my cock and take what’s yours.”
His body shuddered, his eyes opened, his nails digging into my pecs while he bounced on me, rode me hard, fell apart with my name on his tongue as his ass spasmed around me, cock twitching and load spurting on his stomach and mine.
I let loose, growled out loud, my own release following right behind his as I filled his body with my cum.
Tugging him down, we kissed and kissed and kissed until my dick softened and fell out of him. I laid him beside me, pushed his sweaty hair from his forehead.
“Say it again,” Cyrus asked.
“I love you.”
He smiled, replied, “I love you too,” then drifted off to sleep.
I watched him, unable to rest, unable to look away.
I love you.
You’re mine.
And I wanted to share her with him, wanted her memory to go on the way Cyrus let his mom live on in him. I wanted to take that last step, to give myself to him completely.
Quietly, I sneaked from the bed, went to the safe, and unlocked it. I held the journal to my chest, remembering her smile, acknowledging what she gave up for me, trying to help me break free.
Cyrus was just stirring as I entered the room again. “Crow?”
I sat beside him and handed him the book.
“What is this?”
“My mom…it’s how I knew what happened. I finished it, wrote what happened to her and some of what happened to me. It…will hurt, but if you want…I want to share that with you.”
“Yes. Thank you. I…”
“Shh.” I kissed his lips. “Stay. I can’t…” I couldn’t watch.
“Okay.” He nodded.
I grabbed clothes and slipped from the room.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Cyrus
Crow,
I don’t know how to start this letter. If you’re reading it, that means I’m not around to tell you everything myself, and the thought of that is too devastating to comprehend. You are my dream come true. If there is anything I want you to take from all this, it’s that. I have never in my life wanted something more than I wanted you. I have never loved someone more than I love you. The most important thing in the world for me is that you get out of this place, out of this cult, because that’s exactly what The Enlightened is. A cult. I want you to have the happy, healthy life you were meant to have, my sweet boy. If that happens, everything I go through will be worth it.
When I got this journal, I left the first few pages blank for a reason. I wanted to tell the story about The Enlightened, about Chosen and all my experiences, but I also wanted to set aside something special for you. It’s impossible to tell you everything, to make you understand, but I have to try.
You know nothing about my life before Chosen, in part because at first, I didn’t think it mattered. My past, before Chosen told me about my purpose, my destiny, seemed insignificant. For years I believed everything he said, believed I was doing the right thing, that this was my path, and in some ways, I guess it was, because it brought me you. By the time I started to doubt him, doubt his ways, it was too late. I couldn’t leave without losing you. That wasn’t an option for me. I was scared to try, didn’t believe in myself, didn’t think I could make it work to save us both, and if you’re reading this, I was right.
I grew up with very wealthy parents and no other family. They hadn’t planned on having me, and the truth is, they didn’t want me. Nothing I ever did was right. They were constantly telling me how much of a disappointment I was, leaving me to be raised by nannies while they went on trying to conquer the world.
When my parents died, they left me everything, but money was all I had. No self-confidence, no self-esteem, had never known what it was like to be loved, and I wanted that, so very badly. I always told myself I was going to have kids and be the best mother in the world. My child was never going to know what it felt like to be unloved, and it looks like I failed in that. I met a man who made me believe it was the right thing to do to withhold affection from you because it should be reserved for him. I hate myself for that, for the ways I let him twist my brain. But I’m getting ahead of myself.