Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
She bites her lip to stifle a groan, and in the process, she loses her grip on my wrists. When she collapses into me, I tug her nipple with my teeth, and she squeezes my dick with her body. The first spasm leaves her gasping for breath, and I wrap my arms around her, holding her hostage as I drive into her from below.
Water splashes everywhere and Ella’s hands slide down the edge of the tub as she cries out over and over again. When she starts to kiss my throat, sucking at my skin and torturing me with her teeth, it’s all over for me. She rocks her hips against me, owning every convulsion of my cock as I unleash inside her. We fall into each other, breathless, and don’t resurface again for several minutes. When I do, I’m aware of the fact that my arms are still wrapped around her and my cock limp but tucked away in the sanctuary of her body.
What are you doing to me?
I want to ask her, but I can’t bring myself to admit that anything is different. Instead, I reach for the soap and follow through with the mechanical actions of washing her body. But there’s nothing mechanical about it when she shudders and closes her eyes, leaning her face against my chest with a contented sigh. She could live right here, and I could die right here.
“Tell me what really happened.” My voice is rough when my fingers move over the scars on her arms.
When Ella opens her eyes again, they are tormented, and I don’t know what to expect. She could lie to me again. She could dismiss the question, which is what I usually do. Or she could tell me the truth. One way or another, I’m determined to get it out of her, but as it turns out, I don’t have to.
“My mother died when I was young,” she says softly. “And when I was nine, my father decided to remarry. He moved us to London to live with my new stepmother and her daughters. But we weren’t there for long at all when he died too.”
“How?” I ask.
“We were robbed while we waited for the train.” She lowers her lashes, avoiding my gaze. “He was trying to protect me. They wanted all of our jewelry, and we’d given them everything except for the necklace I was wearing. It was my mother’s, and I know he was just trying to keep it for me. But the men attacked him, and one of them stabbed him. He died so fast… there was nothing we could do.”
When I swallow, it feels like there are nails in my throat. The image of a young Ella watching helplessly as her father dies of such violence before her is almost unfathomable. Except I know that it isn’t. Evil is everywhere in this world. You merely have to open your eyes to see it.
“Did they hurt you too?” I croak.
“No.” She shakes her head. “They ran. The police found them eventually, and they were charged, but it didn’t change the facts. My father was gone, and I was left with a woman who hated me.”
“Your stepmother?”
She nods. “She’s always blamed me for that day, and if I’m being honest, I blame me too. They’ve spent my entire life punishing me for it, and I just let them because I thought it’s what I probably deserved.”
Her confession is so raw it leaves me speechless. How could she ever think so little of herself? And how could fate be so cruel as to take away everything from her at such a young age?
“Anyway, over the years, there have been incidents,” she continues. “Mostly with my stepmother. But my stepsisters too. One of them is worse than the other. She’s spoiled rotten, and when things don’t go her way, she lashes out. That’s what happened one night when I refused to do her homework. She pushed me into the fire and then told her mother I fell. I never said otherwise because I had a feeling she would just do something even worse.”
She finishes her story with a deafening silence, and I don’t know what to say. There have never been words to comfort me, and I suppose in that way, I am emotionally crippled. I have no words for Ella, either. But in my own fucked-up way, I want her to know I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what she’s been through already, and I’m sorry that she ever crossed my path. Because more than anything, she needs someone to save her, and that isn’t me.
I brush the wet hair back over her shoulders and cup the back of her skull, kissing her with a brutality that betrays the things I keep saying I don’t want. She accepts them. Every messy second of my unspoken lies and pretty words. And when I’m done promising her things in my head that I can never say out loud, I towel her off and carry her naked body back to my bed.