Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 167819 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 839(@200wpm)___ 671(@250wpm)___ 559(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167819 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 839(@200wpm)___ 671(@250wpm)___ 559(@300wpm)
It’s for the best.
Hell, maybe all the drugs and shit I’ve consumed will prevent me from having Chance’s children and he’ll throw me away. Like every other man who’s come into my life. A Lord needs to reproduce. It’s part of their commitment to the society. If you don’t have anything to offer to it, then they don’t need you. And the Lords want their army.
Deny a man sex for three years, then give him a chosen as a reward, marry him off and he’s more than willing to knock up his wife. Boom! Next generation of Lords and Ladies are growing up. Rinse and repeat.
A cold chill runs up my back and I stiffen. My heart picking up at the shadow I see in the window standing behind me.
My skin begins to tingle, the fear and adrenaline making my breath hitch. “What do you want?” I ask, knowing exactly who it is.
“Little demon.” Sin’s voice comes from behind me.
I close my eyes, my hand curling around the neck of the wine bottle tighter. The hair is pulled off my shoulders to lay down my back and goose bumps break out across my skin. “Why are you here, Sin?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” he rasps against my neck. His lips tenderly kissing right behind my ear.
“I’m getting married,” I say, hoping it pisses him off as much as the news about him marrying Amelia did me. I want him to fucking break. It’s my turn to destroy something.
“You were serving me long before he came along, little demon,” he says, and I whimper. Of course, he doesn’t care that I’m being forced against my will to marry another Lord.
“Leave,” I whisper. “Please.”
“I can’t do that, Elli.” His arm comes around my waist and slides up my shirt. His gentleness makes my breath hitch. Sin is never gentle, but I don’t stop him. I’ve missed him too much. Just the fact that he showed up has my heart hammering in my chest with excitement. “You still think of me.” He chuckles darkly when his fingers run over my nipple piercings. I haven’t brought myself to remove them.
No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to erase him.
His hand slides through the collar of his shirt I have on, and he wraps his fingers around my neck, making me arch it.
His free hand grabs the bottle that hangs to my side. Bringing it up to my lips, he says, “Open.”
He pours the wine down my throat, and I choke on it. Making it cover my face, neck, and clothes. It splatters across the window I stand in front of. “Sin,” I snap, pushing him away and turning to face him, his hand now slipping free of the shirt.
The open curtains now behind me give the room a little light from the outside porch lights streaming in. He’s dressed in his black jeans and black hoodie. All he’s missing is his mask, contacts, and gloves to be my hero. I hate that the guy who saved me is the same guy who no longer wants me. “Get the fuck out of my house,” I growl, walking past him. My shoulder bumping into his.
“Get on your knees,” he orders.
A laugh bubbles up my chest and spills out of my lips. I turn around to face him. The look on his face tells me he was not joking. “You get what you give, Sin, and I don’t give a fuck anymore.” With that, I turn, giving him my back and heading to my bedroom.
His hand grips my hair, and he yanks my back into his front.
“Sin,” I growl, my hands grabbing at his forearms. Digging my nails into his skin, I hope I make him bleed. “Let go of me.” My legs kick out as he lifts me off my feet, carrying me over to the back of the couch. My pussy clenching with excitement. He’s here for me. And if he’s here for me that means he’s not there for her.
“Is this how we’re going to play, Elli?”
I whimper and wetness pools in my underwear. No. No. No. “Just leave. Ple-ease,” I beg him. My heart hammering.
He chuckles, pinning my front into the back of the couch while standing behind me. “Going to fight me?” He grabs my hands and yanks them behind my back, pinning them in place while gripping my forearms together in one hand. His free hand grabs my hair, yanking my head up, forcing me to stare up at the ceiling, panting. “Make me take what already belongs to me?”
I try to wiggle free but there’s nowhere to go and my thighs clench. Hating myself more than I could ever hate him. James was right, I respond better to beatings. Bruises and scars are what I get off on. Why am I like this? Would I have been this way had my father never died and my mother had not married James? We’ll never know. “Fuck you, Sin,” I manage to grind out.