War and His Queen (Carpe Noctem #1) Read Online Amo Jones

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Dark, Forbidden, Mafia, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Carpe Noctem Series by Amo Jones
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Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 150546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 753(@200wpm)___ 602(@250wpm)___ 502(@300wpm)
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But queens and pawns…

His finger thrusts inside before lining the crease and anchoring on my clit. The length of his cock billows against my back when he shifts his hips forward. With both of us refusing to break, my knees weaken and the hand on my pussy tightens as the guy catches me when I almost fall, only aggravating the fire that continues to burn between War and I.

I break.

Curved in a pillow of rage, War’s lips are the gates of hell, his tongue the Devil’s shrine. Even with the vicious warning of his scowl, my teeth silence my pants by catching my lower lip.

The familiar sway of elation tightens around me—

War is off his chair in a flash, swallowing the distance between us like the beautiful monster that he is.

The music is suddenly too loud, the people too close, and a yelp bolts out of me as I shove the guy’s hand out and duck behind a group of people. I needed to get out of here or at the very least put some safe distance between us. I may have moved my queen into the wrong row.

My hands fly out to move people when Vaden shifts from beneath the light, turning a girl who’s in his arms. His tongue cleans the blood on the corner of his mouth.

Shock holds me in place. Vaden? No. There’s no damn way I’m seeing what I’m seeing.

Maybe I’m drunk.

These parties had always been nightmarish. It’s our version of Halloween, and everyone is too high on drugs and alcohol. Until we stopped coming.

Now, they’d hopefully have to be so fucked up that they don’t question anything. Shit. I should probably call cleanup now before I forget. Whoever dies simply never existed. The Hayes Castle was their path to death.

“Unsainted” by Slipknot counteracts the adrenaline and alcohol as my shoe catches the wrong angle and I’m falling—until my back lands on something hard.

My smile widens when I spin back to my puppet, only to find rage glaring down at me from the most beautiful face to ever touch mankind.

His hand lands on my throat before I can say fuck, squeezing out what’s left of the air in my lungs. He can push around all he wants, but fear doesn’t exist here.

The cushion of his fingers bite into my flesh when he lifts me from the ground, forcing us closer. Even through the chaos of what’s going on around us and the alcohol that’s masking feelings I don’t want to touch right now, it’s the way the bruise of his attention feels days after I have it that leaves me hungry for me.

“We’re gonna lay down some ground rules.” His other hand moves with greed when it slips down the front of my skirt. “This is, and always has been, mine, and I don’t share my fucking toys, much less the damaged ones.”

He glides his thick, long fingers over the swell of my clit, rousing the sharp talons hidden in my heart to claw against my rib cage. My body shudders, and the whimper that leaves my mouth tastes a little too close to surrender.

His shoulder catches my forehead when I collapse against his weight. Sweat rolls off his hard, coiled muscles, drowning me with his scent.

I can claw out my heart later. Right now, I need him.

The sadistic cadence of his chuckle has my skin prickling. “You think I’m gonna get you off?” My feet hit the ground and his hand is out of my skirt in a flash. “Fuck no, Halen. You can sit on my lap for the rest of the night without a release, and if you’re fucking lucky…” His movements threaten my space again, only this time I don’t want it.

War is nothing like my brother or Vade. He’s different in that he’s intentionally vicious with what he wants. The other two will deprive themselves just to bathe in the suffering. War, I’ve begun to learn, is the one who likes inflicting the suffering. Not necessarily a fan of being on the receiving end of it.

A thickset band snaps around my throat before I can protest. Blood drains my face when my fingers skim leather and metal.

“You collared me!”

The party is in full swing, but without his body against mine, it suddenly feels too empty.

He answers me by tugging on the leash that’s connected to the collar. I bury the heels of my shoes into the grass in a poor attempt to stop him, but with a facile pull, I tumble forward, reaching for the lead out of haste and dropping my glass in the process.

Nature billows her bitter fog at our feet as silent prayers leave my lips, begging that no one sees me in such a vulnerable state.

Moments later we’re brushing past herds of basic Halloween costumes and coke dusted naked bodies until we’re directly in front of the fire I admired him through not too long ago.


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