Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 126522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
“Wolves,” he clarifies. “We stalked you with our wolves, not dogs.”
I give him a blank stare. “Are you kidding me? That’s the part of my comment that you choose to clarify? Wolves, not dogs? Are you in-fucking-sane? What is wrong with you?”
His lips twist into a sick smirk just moments before his tone drops low, the thick, deep, vibrations instantly reminding me that Tarzan is a little bitch who left me with the worst case of blue bean imaginable. “Baby, you couldn’t even begin to imagine the fucked-up things that are wrong with me.”
I swallow hard as my heart races, matching the rapid beat of drums coming from upstairs and causing all sorts of havoc inside my chest. My hands ball into fists at my sides. I should be utterly repulsed by this psycho, not turned on. Screwing a guy like Marcus DeAngelis would surely earn me a one-way ticket to hell. Besides, he’s that fucked in the head that he’d probably kill me first and then fuck me.
I shake the thought from my head. Why am I even thinking about that? What is wrong with me? I shouldn’t be considering sleeping with one of my three inevitable murderers. I should be thinking about survival or figuring out a way to delay my untimely death because let’s face it, once they’re done with me, they’re going to go straight back out there and pick up some other poor girl to destroy.
The realization that I can’t just give up shoots through me. I have to endure this for as long as possible because the alternative simply isn’t okay with me. A fierce hopelessness fills my soul, and as I meet Marcus’ hard stare once again, I know he senses it.
“Why haven’t you killed me yet?” I blurt out as the fight leaves my body and I resign myself to my new fucked-up future, somehow convincing myself that I have to be okay with it. “That’s what you want, right? You want to watch the life drain out of me. You want to strangle me or slice me open. That’s what gets you off, so what are you waiting for?”
He grins back at me, a real deranged and twisted grin, and my chest sinks as the weight of the situation sits heavily on my shoulders. His dark eyes flare as he leans in even closer, so close that the tip of his nose skims over my cheekbone. “Because I haven’t had my fun with you yet.”
My blood runs cold. He doesn’t even try to deny my claims of him wanting to kill me. We both know it’s true, so what’s the point in even pretending?
My gaze shifts down as his hand slips inside his pocket and I catch my breath when he pulls out a thick piece of black material, eerily similar to the one Roman had used to knock me out last night. Fear pulses through me and my heart kicks into gear all over again. “No,” I whisper, violently shaking my head, fearing what a guy like Marcus could do to me while I’m out cold on my torture chamber floor. “Please don’t.”
He presses harder into me, capturing both my wrists in just one of his big hands and wrapping the black material around them, binding them together. His gaze remains locked on mine as a soft breath of relief pours out of me, realizing that this isn’t a repeat of last night. But that could only mean that he’s got something else planned for me.
Marcus steps back, dragging me along with him and pulling me away from the wall. “I’m going to fuck you,” he tells me, his tone leaving no room for argument or question. “You’re not going to scream. You’re not going to fight. I’m going to fuck that tight little pussy until you come on my dick. It’s going to be hard and fast and I’m not going to stop until your fucking knees are shaking. Is that understood?”
I swallow hard, staring at him as though he was speaking another language.
He wants to fuck me, and shit, why does the very thought of me convulsing around his hard cock get me so damn hot?
I start shaking my head. “No,” I say, trying to pull back as shame washes through me. I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t be flooding with need, but fuck, a guy like Marcus DeAngelis could destroy me in all the right ways.
He’s a fucking murderer, they all are. He’s dark and deadly and the last thing I should want is to allow myself to be vulnerable around him, to allow him to take my body and make me feel more alive than I have in days. Am I that fucked up in the head to want this? Because since the second those words slipped from between his full lips my pussy has been clenching with anticipation.