Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
His vengeance is what binds us, and no amount of gentleness can change that fact.
I see the exact moment the monster starts to win the battle. Peter’s jaw tightens as he withdraws partway, then plunges back in with a hard thrust. “Is this what you want from me?” His voice is low and rough, his gray eyes filled with growing darkness. He flexes his hips, and I gasp as he spears deeper into me, his hand tightening around my wrists. “Tell me, Sara. Is this what you want?”
I can still say no, let the man restrain the beast, but I’ve chosen my path and I’m not backing down. Maybe this final act of vengeance is what we both need, the punishment required for my absolution.
Maybe if he unleashes his darkness on me, we might both finally be free.
“Yes,” I whisper and brace myself. “That’s precisely what I want.”
32
Peter
* * *
I don’t know what I expected, but as I gaze into Sara’s hazel eyes and see the hatred there, I feel my fantasies dissolving, the lies I fed myself evaporating in the harsh light of truth. Her body might respond to me, but I’m still her enemy—and she is mine. Even with her silky pussy clasping my throbbing cock, the desire thrumming in my blood is tinged with violence, my need for her darker than anything I’ve known.
I don’t just want to fuck her; I want to break her open, to wreak my vengeance on her delicate flesh.
“Sara…” I claw for remnants of my sanity, for something to hold on to as a mindless red tide descends on me, the vicious lash of hunger undermining my control. “You don’t know what you’re—”
“Just fucking do it,” she whispers again, holding my gaze defiantly, and the last thread of my restraint snaps.
With a low, harsh groan, I pull back and surge into her, scarcely registering the way her pussy clenches in panicked resistance, the tender inner tissues giving way under my assault. She’s wet, but she’s tight, almost as small as a virgin, and even in a haze of lust, I realize what it means.
She hasn’t had sex in a while—likely not since her husband.
The man whose arrogance killed my son.
My desire turns even darker, fueled by a surge of agony-born rage, and I lower my head, capturing Sara’s mouth again. Only this time, I can’t hold back, and the kiss is hard and savage, as violent as the emotions tearing me apart. The delicious feel of her, the sweet scent, the wet, silky texture of her mouth—it all drives me insane, and I taste the copper of her blood as my teeth sink into her lower lip, breaking the tender skin. It should stop me, or at least make me pause, but instead, it just whets my appetite. I need this from her: her pain, her suffering. It’s as if a stranger has taken over my body, twisting my craving for her into a need to punish, to make her pay for her husband’s sins. Possessing Sara this way is both heaven and hell, the violent pleasure of fucking her mixing with the bitter knowledge that I failed to keep my promise.
I’m hurting the woman I wanted to heal, the one who makes me feel so alive.
I don’t know if it’s that realization, or the tears I see on her face when I lift my head, but the surge of rage starts to fade, the red haze dissipating even as my desire reaches a new peak. My balls draw up, the pre-orgasmic tension curling at the base of my spine, yet I find myself painfully aware of the bird-like slenderness of her wrists in my grasp—and the terrified stiffness of her body as I violate her silky flesh.
Her eyes lock on mine, and I see pain in the hazel depths, mixed with perverse satisfaction. I’m making it easy for her, adding fuel to the fire of her hatred. This is what she expected from me all along, what she feared and wanted at the same time.
After tonight, I’ll never be anything more than the man who hurt her, who abused her in the cruelest way.
No. Fuck, no. I clench my teeth and force myself to stop, fighting the rising swell of orgasm. Releasing her wrists, I withdraw from her and move down her body, ignoring the agonizing hardness of my cock. Settling between her parted thighs, I grip her knees and lower my head.
“What are you—” she begins dazedly, but I’m already licking her soft pussy, running my tongue between her pink, swollen folds. She’s wet, but not as wet as I’d like, so I set out to remedy that, using every skill I’ve learned over my thirty-five years.
“Wait, Peter, don’t…” She reaches down, trying to push me away as I tongue her clit, and when that fails, she attempts to close her legs. “This is not—”