Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 142818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
The most enjoyable way to feel alive was to be fucked by him.
Fucked.
I didn’t need gentle. Which I’d communicated to him as he undressed me in our bedroom.
“Please,” I murmured, his lips against mine.
His hand at my breast stalled. “I don’t want to hurt you, Violet,” he sighed. My shoulder was healed, the nasty bruise at my side remained, though it barely hurt anymore.
“I need you to hurt me,” I implored, desperate. “I need you to mark my body. To give me something else to focus on. I need you.”
His eyes warred, fighting against his instincts. He wanted to protect me, make sure no further harm came to me. But I knew his baser instincts needed this too. That he was just as hungry for this as I was.
For a second, I was transported back to the roof of the clubhouse, watching him decide whether he was going to kiss me or not, whether he was going to bring us right here, to this moment.
Then, he thrust me firmly back into the present, flipping me so my hands landed on our bed, my ass in the air.
My hands fisted the sheets, my body ripe with anticipation as Elden’s hand had trailed down my spine, hooking into the lace of my underwear and tearing them off.
“You’re my bad little girl still, aren’t you?” he rasped in my ear, spreading my legs with his feet.
“Always,” I promised. “Always yours.”
He grasped a handful of my hair, yanking me back so my neck was exposed to him, and my scalp burned with delicious agony.
Our eyes met. His blazed as the control he’d been clutching to lately slipped out of his grasp.
“Violet,” he warned, voice thick.
“Fuck me, Elden,” I ordered.
His eyes flared, and then he thrust in. Brutal. Fabulous. He didn’t stop until the world fell away, and we were the only people left on the planet.
“What about this?” Mom asked.
I jerked back into the present, looking at the light pink, lace dress she was holding up.
My cheeks flamed.
It was completely inappropriate to be thinking about that as I shopped for my wedding dress with my mother, but I couldn’t help it. Elden did that to me. I wore marks on my thighs, my ass as evidence that I was alive, loved, cherished and that that fucker didn’t win.
They still hadn’t found him, something that I knew haunted every man in the club. The sheriff was still investigating, whatever the fuck that meant.
Sariah, luckily, had been too preoccupied with planning things for the wedding next week to be doing anything that would get her on either the sheriff or the killer’s radar.
My wedding, which would be taking place during the eighth month of my pregnancy while I also somehow managed to finish my degree.
Both Mom and Elden had tried to convince me to contact my professors after I got out of the hospital. As far as excuses went, being attacked by a serial killer while pregnant was a pretty good one to get me out of my final assignments. But I fought them. Because if I didn’t have assignments to finish, then I would’ve had a bunch of free time to think about everything.
Thinking was bad.
Which was why I threw myself into schoolwork and into putting the finishing touches on our house. We were breaking ground the day after the wedding.
Elden had taken me out there the day I got discharged from the hospital.
It was perfect. Everything I could’ve imagined. It wasn’t far from Mom and Swiss’s place, closer to the mountains than them, the sky and desert endless around us. I could envision exactly where everything would go. Where we’d have our greenhouse—I planned to grow as much of our own food as possible—where the pool would go, my studio, a large garage.
I could see our entire life there.
But right now, I was looking at dresses.
“It’s pretty,” I said, fingering the lace.
“See, it’s pretty! Perfect!” Colby exclaimed. “Buy it. Then we’re done.”
I chuckled at my friend. He had been a good sport during the first hour, even offering helpful suggestions. But his patience had worn thin after the tenth dress, and he was slowly losing the will to live.
“Even if this is the one, which I’m not convinced it is, we’re not done,” I informed him. “We still have to find shoes, which will be extra challenging since my feet have ballooned to what must be three times their normal size.”
“Why can’t I be fighting rivals somewhere, seconds away from death?” Colby groaned.
Mom and I both grinned. “Your feet are not three times their normal size,” Mom argued.
I sighed, looking down at them. I may have been exaggerating, but they felt like it. My stamina for shopping had greatly decreased, especially since every dress I tried on was wrong.
We weren’t doing a courthouse wedding. I didn’t want that. I wanted to celebrate with my family and friends, make it a big event. My grandparents were coming. My brilliant, loving, unflappable grandparents had taken in stride that their granddaughter was not only pregnant but marrying a man much older than her in the same outlaw motorcycle club as the man my mom married.