Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 74062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
One thing I learned over the years is you can’t take chances. It’s the difference between life and death. She moves through her apartment, unaware of my eyes on her. My jeans are tight at the crotch as I watch her change.
A groan rumbles in my chest when I take in the beauty. Too bad she’s going to hurt so badly, she’ll beg us for death. It doesn’t matter what she says though, she has to pay. Her father may be locked away, and we can’t get to him, but there are ways to ensure he learns his actions have consequences.
She slips into her loose-fitting hoodie over a tank top, doing nothing to hide her curves. Her long hair shimmers in the low light of her bedroom as she pulls it into a ponytail and my fingers itch to wrap those long strands around my fist.
What I wouldn’t do to have her bent over in front of me right now. Shifting in my seat, I lay a hand on my hard cock to ease the ache of my slowly thickening shaft. I bet she’s tight and warm. I can’t stop imagining her slick walls pulsing around me.
Fuck. I need to get out of this car. I shove open the door then step out into the cold night air and it hits me right in the face. It’s as if icicles are being thrown at me. Thankfully, it calms my raging hard on and I can focus once more.
Once her light goes out, I know it’s time to make my move. I open the trunk of my car, then pull out the rope and grab the cloth which I’ll douse once I’m outside her door. She won’t feel a thing, and it will keep her quiet while I drive home.
Moving through the shadows, I focus on the task at hand as I make my way into the building. It’s not manned by security, which is lucky, but also a shame for our girl. I thought she’d be more vigilante about where she lives. Perhaps she thinks being in another country has kept her safe from her father and his actions.
When the elevator spits me out on her floor, I step out into the quiet hallway and turn left. Outside her door, I open the small bottle of chloroform. Once I’ve soaked the cloth, I move quickly, picking the lock of her apartment and stepping inside.
The scent of her perfume lingers in the air, and I realize our home is about to be drenched in her fragrance. A smile plays at my lips, but I shut it down and move through the darkness until I reach her bedroom.
For a while, I lean against the door jamb, watching her. She’s not asleep yet, so I wait. I don’t have anywhere to go, there’s no rush. Her body is tangled in the sheet, her long, lean legs in view. The smooth skin is a soft golden shade of tanned perfection.
Silence hangs in the air heavily, ensuring I’m not heard as I breathe deeply. She truly is beautiful. The honeyed perfume she wears is dangerous because my mouth waters at the thought of pinning her on the bed and taking what I want, devouring her with my mouth as I trail over the softness of her curves.
It’s been a long while since I’ve looked at a woman with any ounce of desire. Lust yes, where I’m able to get my dick wet, but nothing more. I don’t spend the night. Most women learn about my needs, and they run a mile. I am not conventional in any sense of the word. I don’t do sweet, romantic, and loving.
Perhaps it’s the past constantly plaguing me and pushing me into the darkness. Maybe it’s the fact I love watching a woman beg for mercy. When her body is overstimulated, and she’s lost in euphoria, there’s an edge of agonizing want holding her hostage. When she’s come so much it hurts, the destructive line I teeter on, wanting her to beg for mercy, burns me from the inside out. It’s enjoyable watching her legs shake and her back bow off the bed. Knowing you’re the one in control of her every emotion, her every movement, it’s intoxicating.
Ideas pop into my head, things we could do to her. Picturing her at the hands of my brothers, I can’t deny it turns me on more than I could have imagined. Knowing how much Crow loves to play with knives, and how Falcon enjoys rope and toys, and how I’d love nothing more than to taste their salty release on her skin, sends me reeling.
With a fierce grip on the door frame, I dig my fingers in. My mind isn’t a nice place to be. It’s why I fight. I enjoy the ring where I can bloody up someone without consequences. I don’t give a shit about being thrown in the slammer. As The Fallen, we have the money and connections to cover up anything. But there’s a brutality in the ring which doesn’t happen in the streets.