Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 33078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 165(@200wpm)___ 132(@250wpm)___ 110(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 165(@200wpm)___ 132(@250wpm)___ 110(@300wpm)
Bianca doesn’t deserve the Butcher. She deserves Fernando, a man who would never hurt her, who would rather die than hurt her. So with that thought in mind, I pull my thumb from her hot mouth and replace it with my lips.
The kiss is short, mainly because I have to pull back before my instincts have me on top of her and thrusting inside her hot cunt.
“Fernando.” She reaches for me.
“I can’t, sweetness. Not when you’re drunk.” I take her hands and kiss each of her palms. “You need sleep.”
“But I want you,” she whimpers. “Stay with me.”
I close my eyes, relishing those words on her lips. When I open them, I sigh and look around the room. The mother cat and kittens are all snuggled in a pile of fur and sleep. The whole place is locked down, and my phone will alert me if anyone sets foot on my property.
“Please.” She closes her eyes, her hands still in mine. “You won’t hurt me.”
How does she read my heart like a book? I don’t know. I don’t understand any of it, not from the moment I left Antonio’s house with only one goal in mind–taking Bianca.
“Just stay with me. Please, Fernando.” Her voice is soft, falling into sleep as her lips stay parted.
I shouldn’t. I should take my ass out to the living room and crash on the couch, leaving her to sleep peacefully and finally rest after the long night and day she’s had. But she asked me to stay. Pleaded. I can’t deny her.
So I rise and close the door to our room before I strip out of my clothes, careful to leave my boxer briefs on. My cock stands out thick and hard against the material, and no matter what I try to put in my mind–nasty shit that only the Butcher could come up with–it doesn’t make it go down. Not when I’m this close to Bianca. Not when I’m about to share a bed with her.
When I return to her, her eyebrows are furrowed, a wrinkle between them. I climb into bed, careful to stay away from her side.
I lie on my back and stare up at the ceiling.
The bed shifts, and I sense her before I feel her touch. She rolls into my side, her cheek resting on my chest as I wrap my arm around her back. It’s so easy, so natural, as if we’ve slept this way hundreds, thousands of times. But it’s new. It’s all so new. My skin is sensitive, her touch foreign and almost exotic. I can feel every bit of her body that touches me, even her breath against my chest. Everything about her is warm, sweet, perfect.
I’m scared to move. Scared to think.
That’s when she pulls her knee up and rests her thigh on my hard cock. A groan sticks in my throat, and I can barely breathe. Just the pressure of her against me makes my balls pull up close to my body. She’s driving me wild, and she’s not even awake.
I stroke her back slowly, hoping the movement will calm me down.
She moves her leg higher.
I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood.
Her breath tickles my nipple, making it go hard, and her breast presses against my side, her shirt doing nothing to hide the fullness of it.
Sweat beads along my brow, and I don’t know how I’m going to survive this night.
Fucking hell.
I thought I knew torture. I thought I knew pain.
Now I realize I didn’t know a goddamn thing. Not until I stole my Bianca.
14
BIANCA
I fight not to giggle as I stare at Fernando’s sleeping face. Even in his sleep, he looks so serious. His brows keep furrowing and unfurrowing. What I love most, though, is his hold on me. He keeps me tucked close to him. Not that it’s hard since I’m clinging to him.
I’ve already spent a good five minutes taking him in. It’s nice to get a chance to stare at him without him glancing away or shifting to give me the side of his face. Self-conscious is not a word I would have ever thought when I’d heard stories of the Butcher. But I think with me, Fernando may be a bit that way. My whole life, I’ve been stared at and told I was pretty. I think Fernando has been stared at, and in those stares all he ever saw was fear or disgust. Those things take a toll on a person after a while.
I get this feeling he’s waiting for me to say something that might hurt him, and it’s why he often pulls his gaze away. Which is freaking crazy. I can’t even fathom him thinking, me, tiny Bianca, could hurt the Butcher.
I think I’m finally coming to grips with the fact that the Butcher and Fernando are the same person. And the more my mind accepts it, the less it bothers me. If anything, I feel a bit powerful. Which is nice since for so long I’ve been under the thumb of someone. It’s new to have a little bit of control.