Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 42809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 214(@200wpm)___ 171(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 214(@200wpm)___ 171(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
Rogan shoves me into the bedroom where I stumble to my knees. I quickly scurry to the far corner of the room we used to make love in, but it’s no longer like that. There are no tender moments, no soft touches. Those disappeared along with the Rogan I fell in love with a long time ago, and in his place is the man before me—rough, violent, angry.
The wall at my back is the only thing keeping me from running. I’m cornered. A mouse shaking as the predator makes its way closer. Rogan’s strong hand grips my neck, his fingers tightening around the column as he squeezes the air from my lungs. If I panic, it will only make things worse, so I try to inhale through my nostrils.
“Do you think you can go fucking around, and I won’t find out?” he demands.
His jealousy only started when I told him about my job. Before that, he wasn’t like this. I don’t want to make excuses for him. I used to, but not anymore. There’s no denying I’m in a dangerous situation, and I should have walked out months ago.
I used to get angry when I heard about women in relationships like mine. I would wonder why the hell they stayed, but it’s so hard to walk away. It’s only now I finally I get it. I’m the one I should be angry with.
The fist that makes contact with my stomach has me doubling over, and then he steps back, those dark eyes filled with anger. He grips my hair, tangling his fingers in the strands, and he drags me over to the bed where I know the worst is yet to come.
“Please, Rogan. I’ve done nothing wrong,” I try to reason with him, to explain I’m innocent of the things he’s accusing me of, but it’s no use.
He holds me face down on top of the covers. The soft material does nothing to soothe me. The roughness of his other hand as he rips my leggings down over my hips causes me to cry out. And that’s when I hear his belt being removed. The sound of his buckle echoes in my ears. It’s like the clanging of a church bell, only the sound isn’t leading me to salvation, and I’m not in the quiet solace of a cathedral.
It’s a warning of the agony about to be bestowed on me. The first lash of pain has me trying to claw myself away from him, but his firm grip on my head is too fierce.
A second fiery bite of pain stings through me. My flesh is burning, and even as I scream, the mattress muffles the sound. Again and again, the leather licks at my body. He attacks not only my ass but also my thighs and back.
By the time the final blow comes, I’m close to passing out. The fight has left my body and my fingers no longer grip the material of the blankets on our bed. Even though I hear the belt hit the carpet with a soft thud, I know it’s not over.
“Do you see what you make me do?” Rogan whispers as his zipper hisses.
This is what always happens after. He drags me up the bed and turns me onto my back. It causes me to cry out as the blankets touch my open wounds, sending fire and ice racing through me. It’s like being burned. You don’t realize just how painful it is until it sinks into your brain and steals your breath.
I’m weakened. I can’t fight, and he knows it. This is how he prefers me. Nothing more than a broken toy for him to play with. For him to abuse as he wishes.
When he finally thrusts inside me, the agony is profound. I’m not ready for him, but he doesn’t care. There’s no longer any love or affection in this man. Something almost demonic has taken all the good I once saw in his eyes.
“Please, stop,” I beg, but Rogan doesn’t hear me. He can’t because he’s possessed by whatever the fuck has ahold of his soul.
His hands on my shoulders force me down, and the full weight of him pins me to the bed. His cock feels like sandpaper sliding into me, the softness of my body far from wet, far from accepting. Using my palms, I try to lift him off me, but he’s too heavy, too strong.
The grunts that rumble through him make me feel ill. I want to puke. I can feel the bile rising into my throat. The acidic burn is the only way I know I’m still awake, that I’m still alive. Turning my head, I cough out the liquid that spills from my lips.
“Fucking filthy slut,” Rogan spews. “You should be thankful I’m even showing you affection.” His hand comes into contact with my cheek, causing stars to dot my vision.