Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 127476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Her eyes are squeezed shut, her bottom lip clamped between her teeth as she tries to restrain her cries.
Shifting position, I try to slide a hand between us, but we're too close and she's relying on me to hold her up. Grunting, she nearly slips from my grip as I grasp her hips tightly and pull her away from the wall. I stagger across the room, her body colliding with the crisp sheets of the still made bed in the dim lighting. Her eyes open as I climb between her legs, hovering over top of her. A sliver of blood slices her bottom lip from where her teeth pierced the fragile skin. Her tongue darts out, slowly licking it away as she stares at me.
Watching her ignites a fire in my veins.
A fire that can't be tamed.
I push inside of her again, driving her thighs apart from the force of the thrust. My fingertips find her clit, rubbing firm circles around it, as I fuck her so deep I can practically pierce her soul. She can't stop her cries this time, can't swallow them down like she did before, the strangled noises bouncing off the walls so loudly I'm surprised they don't quake the ground.
It doesn't take long before her body tenses, muscles growing taut from her impending orgasm.
As soon as I feel it building, clawing at her from the inside, I pull from her lips. She inhales sharply, filling her lungs with a deep breath, before my hand wraps around her throat once more.
She exhales with surprise.
This time, I squeeze.
The tan drains from her face, her eyes widening as I press against her jugular, constricting blood flow and obstructing her air. Sheer terror courses through her veins. I know, because I see it in her eyes, even more intense now than the first time I did this. Last time she was confused, and rightfully so, but this time she knows what I almost did to her.
What I wanted to do to her.
She knows, and she feels it. Her hands try to pry mine away, nails clawing at my wrist as she struggles, battling my hold and my weight, bucking her hips. Color seeps into her cheeks again, this time redness coating her skin, as she gives up trying to stop me and fights back instead. Her hands rip at my clothes before she grasps ahold of my tie and yanks it, trying to choke me back. It's futile, her fighting. I don't even budge.
It's only a few seconds. A few seconds before her eyes start to glaze over, her mouth moving but no sound coming out. Her legs quiver around me, every inch of her rigid as she arches her back, again squeezing her eyes shut. Her body explodes in pleasure the second I release my hold. She gasps loudly, her lungs hungrily devouring a breath.
A breath I granted her.
A breath she almost didn't get.
She screams, an ear-splitting shriek that rattles my bones as it batters me. Her body convulses, my name the only coherent word rupturing from her lips. "Naz!"
The sound of it is a punch to the chest. I lose it. My body shudders as I come hard, the force of it momentarily paralyzing me. I can't fucking move. I fist the sheets on both sides of her curvy frame, gritting my teeth as a curse slips through again. "Fuck."
I pull away the moment I can control myself and look down at Karissa. She has her eyes squeezed shut, and she's panting, her body desperate, greedy for all the air it can get. She doesn't move an inch, lying flat like her limbs stopped working, the only sign of life the rise and fall of her chest.
After her breathing slows down, she peeks open her eyes, instantly meeting mine. The terror is gone, instead replaced with relief. The sight of it sends a chill down my spine. It's like a rebirth, waking up to a new world, a reverence for life and an appreciation for each breath that didn't exist before. No one is more grateful to be alive than someone who thought they were going to die.
Second wind.
Second chances don't come easily. Most people don't get them. Most people don't know what it's like to come back from the brink of death.
It changes people.
It certainly changed me.
Rome's quiet at night.
The city is bathed in a burning glow from the lights of the buildings, the only thing visible in the stark blackness. From my chair on the balcony, I can see for miles, but there's not much to look at this late.
Three, I think, maybe four in the morning. I've been out here for hours, ever since Karissa fell asleep. Insomnia is a bitch that stalks me in the darkness, making my surroundings more haunting than serene.
I feel dead most nights. The walking dead, except I still have a pulse, a faint heartbeat. It's hard to feel alive when you've been obliterated inside, hard to feel real when you no longer remember how to dream.
It's probably fitting.
The only people that seem to be out at this hour are the Italian police, the military force called the Carabinieri, wielding their machine guns, monitoring the streets. You'd think it would unnerve me, but I feel more at ease here than back in New York.
Nobody here is gunning for me.
The doors to the room are open behind me, a breeze wafting through, ghosting across my sweaty skin. I'm still dressed, my sleeves shoved up to my elbows, shirt halfway unbuttoned, and tie discarded. I stretch my legs out, crossing them at the ankles, when I hear movement in the room.
Her footsteps are subdued, like she's purposely tiptoeing, as she makes her way out onto the balcony. Her presence looms right behind me, shadows falling over me. She walks right around me, approaching the edge of the balcony to look out. She's wearing only a t-shirt and underwear, the white fabric illuminated in the darkness.
She gazes out at the city, taking in the view. "It's so… orange."