Total pages in book: 170
Estimated words: 160791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 804(@200wpm)___ 643(@250wpm)___ 536(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 804(@200wpm)___ 643(@250wpm)___ 536(@300wpm)
I groan, sinking into her, and she takes each inch with ease until she’s full to the hilt. I breath in, twitching, my legs fucking shaking. “Move your head away from the wall,” I order, giving her space to brace her palms against the paint. I take her hips, grind, and then watch my cock slip out of her, glistening, coated in her pleasure. “Fuck,” I breathe, my head falling back, my feet spreading. I snarl as I power forward, smashing into her callously. But she takes it like a pro. Always does, moaning and forcing her arse back, egging me on.
“Yes,” she says, and that’s all I want. The key word. I launch my attack and bang into her repeatedly, over and over, smash after smash, and she screams her satisfaction, meeting my drives. “Harder,” she yells.
She gets what she wants. My hips are out of control, the pleasure ransacking every inch of me, my gruff barks loud, my vision foggy. “You like that?” I yell, pounding on. “You like that, baby?”
“Yes!” She smashes her fist into the wall repeatedly, her head tossed back. “Danny!”
Her internal walls greedily squeeze, and blood surges to my head. We’re going to come. Urgency takes over as I thrust, dripping wet, pushing us to the edge. I bellow her name, crashing forward erratically, shooting my load on a choke. “Holy shit,” I cough, shaking the stars from my vision, falling forward. Her gasps are breathy, her body heaving, and I’m right there with her.
“Don’t say you’re going back to Miami,” she pants.
I close my eyes, turning my face into hers and kissing her damp cheek. “I’m going back,” I whisper, telling her what she already knows.
She’s silent for a few moments, and I brace myself, preparing for what comes next. She eventually breathes in deeply and wriggles from beneath me, and I hiss when my dick is unexpectedly pulled from the warmth of her pussy.
She walks away, and I sigh, putting my forearm on the wall and resting my head there, closing my eyes. “I don’t have a choice, Rose,” I call into my darkness.
“No, Danny, you have a choice,” she says, her voice getting quieter the closer she gets to the bathroom. “You’ve just made the wrong one.” The door slams, and I sag on a sigh.
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter, pushing myself up with some effort, not only physically spent, but mentally too. I fasten my trousers, turning to face the closed door. “Baby, I really don’t.”
The door flies open, and she appears, still bollock naked, but now wearing a face of fury. “Don’t talk to me about choices,” she yells. “I didn’t have any for years, so I damn well know the difference between being backed into a corner or going there yourself. You’ve put yourself in the fucking corner, Danny.”
She really does know how to say the right things to get my back up. “We don’t talk about that.”
“Today we do,” she hisses, her hands bracing on each side of the doorframe, getting comfortable, her stance threatening. “I spent years with no choices. Being beaten. Doing what I was told or paying the price.”
“Rose,” I warn lowly, my veins beginning to burn. She knows it kills me hearing this.
“Being raped.”
My nostrils flare. The vicious bitch. “Stop it.” Nothing quite sends me into orbit like getting a swift reminder of how despicably she was treated in the past. The evil she faced. Nothing.
“Did you have a choice when your stepfather bent you over and rammed his cock up your ass?”
“Rose!” I roar, seeing red.
Her chin lifts, her point made. “Don’t tell me we don’t have choices, Danny, because we went through hell alone and together to fight for them.”
“You want me to sit around here waiting for them to come kill me?”
“Who?” she yells.
“Fucking everyone, Rose! The whole fucking world. If one man knows I’m alive, all the fuckers who ever wanted me dead will be crawling out of the woodwork to make sure I really am in the ground this time. You want that?”
Her jaw rolls, her frame quaking. “I won’t let you go back. You’ll be walking into a battle zone.”
“But I’ll win the fucking war,” I say, and she screams, her frustration bursting out of her with force. She gets it. She doesn’t want to, but she gets it. I can’t sit here doing nothing. I’ve been blissfully dead for three years, but my time in paradise is up. I should never have trusted Spittle to keep my cover. I should have known the stupid fuck would fuck it up in one way or another. Greed is a nasty quality. But regardless, there are big fish moving in on my old town, and they won’t risk me coming back to claim it. The attempt on Brad’s life is the only proof I need, not to mention Kelly’s intel. Whether I like it or not, I’m being resurrected.