Series: Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“Time for your spanking. You earned it. Roll over, ass in the air.”
I do as I'm told, and I feel my body shaking with excitement.
“Spread your legs,” he says, rubbing my ass with his hands.
I spread my legs, knowing that I belong to him and that he is slowly taking over my life.
And I'm fine with that.
I'm fine with being his dirty little whore forever.
He slaps my ass a few times, and then he lifts it up and squeezes it. He spanks my cheeks again, and I feel the sting in my ass, and it makes my pussy tingle even more. He spanks me until my ass is red and stinging and burning. It hurts, but it feels so good at the same time.
“Spread your ass apart,” he commands. “I want to see all of that beautiful pussy.”
I spread my ass apart and look back, eager to see what he's going to do to me.
He slaps my ass, and then he takes my hand and places it between my thighs, rubbing my pussy.
He slaps my pussy with my hand, and then he slaps my pussy again, and then he puts my fingers in my mouth and forces me to suck them.
“You're a dirty girl,” he says. “Taste how dirty you are.”
“I'm your dirty girl,” I agree.
“And I'm your Daddy,” he says, spanking me over and over, making me cry out loudly. “I'm the one who fucks this pussy, this beautiful pussy.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I agree, crying out in passion as he hits my pussy harder and harder.
“And this ass belongs to me,” he says, slapping my ass so hard I feel the pain radiating and spreading.
“It belongs to you. Only you.”
“That's right,” he says. “Only me. You're mine.”
“I'm all yours.”
“Good girl.” He slaps my ass again.
“And now I'm going to make you come with my tongue,” he says, spreading my ass cheeks with his hands. He puts his tongue in my ass, and I moan loudly.
“My dirty girl likes that,” he says. “You like when I rim this asshole of yours.”
“I like it a lot,” I agree, my pussy dripping wet.
He licks my ass, and I can't help but grind against his face.
“I'm going to make you come like you've never come before.” He rubs my pussy and then slides his fingers inside me and pumps hard.
I start moaning, and it doesn't take long before my body is shaking.
“Come on my fingers, baby. Come all over them.”
His words are dirty, and they're nasty, and they're exactly what I want to hear.
“Come for me, Flowers,” he says, and I do, my body shaking and shuddering and convulsing.
He holds me close to him as my body comes down from the rawest, dirtiest orgasm ever.
We lie in the darkness together, our breath mingling. Our heartbeats slowing from a gallop.
“Thank you,” I murmur softly.
Armando lets out a chuff. “You’re thanking me? No, baby. You’re fucking amazing, Hannah.”
His words make my heart sing.
And that’s the real danger. Not how this man handles my body.
But how he handles my heart.
God I hope he doesn't crush it.
What’s even scarier is that he has the power to break my soul.
Chapter Twenty-One
Armando
I’m running through the streets of Chicago, being chased by the Hermanos. I get knocked down and cornered by the entire gang, all of them pointing pistols at me. But then the faces turn familiar—one of the guys in my face is Emilio, another is Harold, Hannah’s dad.
I climb to my feet and offer my chest as target. “Do it,” I say, but then I hear Hannah calling my name.
Armando.
Hearing her voice changes my plan. I can’t let her see me die. I can’t die when she might need me. I decide to try to fight my way out of it or to escape. I grab the wrist of the nearest guy to wrest his gun away.
“Armando!”
I gasp, sitting bolt upright in the bed, my fingers closed around Hannah’s wrist in a crushing grasp.
“Oh, shit!” I drop her wrist like it’s on fire then snatch it back up again, gently. I kiss her racing pulse. Her eyes are wide and horrified.
“I’m sorry, Flowers. I’m so sorry.” I press her wrist to my lips again. “I hurt you. Fuck.”
She’s naked, her beautiful brown breasts shifting as she adjusts to sit up as well. “It’s okay,” she whispers, looping her arms around my neck in a strangling hug.
I don’t deserve her forgiveness, and I suspect there’s sympathy mixed in there, too, which makes me itchy and angry, but I can’t reject her sweetness. She’s the fucking reason I want to live if I analyze the damn nightmare.
Our sex we just had before we passed out was… fucking animalistic, and I now worry. Am I being too hard on her? Am I allowing the darker side to come out of me too quickly?