Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 134531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
K.C.
Her married name was Edwards.
There was a chance, a small chance, her maiden name started with the same letter as mine.
But I knew that it didn’t.
Down to my fucking soul, I knew it didn’t.
She’d given herself my name.
That’s when the mirror smashed.
It was my fist that did it.
When I walked back into the common room, everyone was standing there. Jagger was on the phone, probably talking to Wire to get location data.
Hansen had been speaking but stopped when I walked in.
“We need to go and get her. Now,” I growled.
Hansen’s eyes motioned downward. “Want to take care of that first?”
I glanced downward. My left hand was covered in blood. It was dripping on the floor. There was glass embedded in it. “Nope,” I said to Hansen. “What I need is to get my woman.”
Hansen nodded concisely before looking to Jagger. “We got a trail?”
Jagger’s eyes flickered to me before he looked to our president, nodding in response.
“Good,” Hansen clapped his hands together. “Let’s go.”
“I just hope we’re not too fuckin’ late,” I muttered.
KATE
I was slathering moisturizer on my body when Swiss came in. He had an odd look on his face. One that made everything in me spark. Come alive. I kept rubbing my skin which seemed a thousand times more sensitive.
“It’s time.” His voice was deep and throaty as he took slow, measured steps toward the bed.
He was stalking. Like a predator might.
The sparks inside me burning brighter.
When he made it to the bed, he pulled the knife from his belt.
My stomach dropped delightfully.
It was only when he was in a particular kind of mood that Swiss used the knife on me. The first time he’d drawn my blood with that knife, he’d raised the blade to his lips and licked it off the steel.
Maybe it was fucked-up. All I knew was that I loved it. Loved him… consuming me in that way. Every mark he gave me erased something from my past.
“I need my name on you, Countess,” he murmured, the tip of the knife cutting through the fabric of my tank.
I trembled in delight as I watched him.
“I want my real name on you,” he amended.
My chest rose and fell rapidly as the torn material split apart, exposing my pebbled nipples.
Swiss ran the dull side of the blade along them.
I gasped in anticipation.
His eyes were on fire. “It’s a name I’ve left behind,” he explained. “One that I want on you because it’s the one I was born with. One I will die with, even if that’s not who I am anymore.”
The knife traced down the center of my body, the tip kissing my navel. Fire remained in its wake.
The cotton, boy short panties I was wearing were next.
The steel was cold against my pussy, and my back arched upward.
“This is gonna hurt, Countess,” he warned, the tip of the knife drawing circles at the curve of my hip.
His other hand pushed my thighs apart. All the way apart. So I was completely exposed to him. Not that long ago, I would’ve felt defenseless, vulnerable and ashamed in this position. I would’ve pushed my legs back together on instinct.
But I spread them farther apart, to further expose myself to Swiss.
His eyes, rapt on the apex of my thighs, flared wider, and he let out a hiss between his teeth.
His eyes found mine once more. “My goal is to make you cum so hard that all that pain will be nothing compared to the pleasure you feel from me eating your cunt.”
And then he proceeded to eat my cunt.
He turned out being right. It hurt.
But he was wrong about it being nothing compared to the pleasure that came from my orgasms—which were fucking amazing. Seeing him carve his initials into me—R.C. for Rowan Carter—feeling the pain explode in my hip as he scarred me with his initials, it was some of the most intense pleasure I’d felt in my life.
I was covered in blood by the time he was done—it didn’t take long. He was quick and efficient, not to mention surprisingly neat with his script—and it was trickling down between my legs.
Swiss’s eyes were alight with something I’d never seen before as he sat up to stare at the two letters he’d carved into my skin.
“We need to get that disinfected and cleaned up.” I barely recognized his voice it was so thick, hoarse. Almost animalistic.
“No,” I gripped his arm to stop him from standing, my own voice sounding beastly. “You need to fuck me.”
His body jerked. “Kate, you’re bleeding.” It was not a protest. Not for him anyway. He was battling, I could see that clearly. With his need to care for me versus the beast inside of him that didn’t care if I hurt. No, the beast inside that wanted me to hurt. That got off on it.