Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“Nobody said you could kiss me,” she gasps, staring into my eyes, but all the hate’s gone. There’s only a dark, disturbing want in her gaze now.
“Tell me to stop.”
“Asshole.”
I kiss her again. I bite her lip and let my tongue invade her mouth as my hands move down her body, feeling the curves I’ve dreamed about a hundred times, the breasts I want to lick and suck and palm, the ass I want to spread wide and tease and spank raw. I’ve missed her, Olivia, my fucking Olivia, even if I’ve hated her at the same time.
Now she’s here and she tastes like bliss and honey, and I don’t know how we can go back, how we can pretend like this doesn’t feel right.
She breaks away. I knew she would, because if she didn’t, I would keep going, and I wouldn’t stop for anything.
“I should go to my room,” she says, looking at the floor, her hands on my chest pushing softly.
I release her hair and she chews her lip. It’s so fucking sexy I could punch through this wall in frustration.
“Maybe you should. Run and hide. That’s what you’re good at.”
There it is again—that anger I love so much.
“What is with you, Casso? You can’t help but ruin everything you touch. That’s all you ever do.”
“That’s right, princess.” I grab her hair again, this time rougher. “I ruin everything, and I’ll ruin you too. Now run along and hide in your room, or else I’m going to kiss you again, and this time I won’t stop until you’re stripped bare, my hands on your breasts teasing your stiff nipples, my thick cock buried deep between your legs. I won’t stop until you’re moaning my name. I won’t stop until you’re mindless, writhing, sweating, panting. So run along, princess, run along and hide before I take my fill.”
She squirms from my grip and does just that.
I watch her go, my cock hard, my heart racing. My head’s dizzy with a primal, feral need tinged by utter hate. I want to destroy her and I want to worship her, and I don’t know which emotion is more powerful, but the mixture is driving me insane.
A long time ago, she ruined my life. She took my plans and dashed them to pieces. After that I swore I’d never do this again, I’d never let myself want a woman like her.
Now she’s back in my life and it’s like we never left off.
I want to break her, but even more, I want to make her mine and hear her moan and remind her why she lusted after me all those years ago, and why she never really stopped.
Chapter 6
Olivia
Dreams of that kiss turn into nightmares. I wake in a cold sweat and have to take a shower to clear my head.
It’s barely past six in the morning and the house is dead and quiet.
Why did I let him kiss me? Why did I kiss him back, and god, why did I moan? I made the most humiliating sounds of my entire life the moment his lips locked onto mine and sent me spiraling into heaven, or maybe into hell, I’m not sure. What is it about this man that makes me want to give up on myself and throw my body against his?
It drives me wild. It makes me so angry I can barely breathe. Casso’s a murderer, and he doesn’t give a damn that my brother’s dead. He all but said so last night, and I still let him kiss me, let him touch me, let him make me moan and gasp and kiss him back.
I’m weak, that’s all. Weak and worthless and broken. That’s the reason Papa sold me to these people, and I can’t blame him. Why keep a woman like me around that has no utility and will turn around and give in on all her principles the first chance she gets?
I’m so mad at myself I can barely breathe.
But after an hour or two of fuming, I go downstairs and get some coffee from the kitchen. The morning shift cook is a nice lady from Guatemala who makes me some tamales and chats about her grandbabies and her family. I talk back in Spanish, which feels good for a little bit, before I take my food and escape. It’s strange how English felt unnatural the first day, but I’m slipping back into it like a pair of worn slippers, and it makes sense—it was my first language after all. Though I still like speaking Spanish when I can and I don’t want to lose it living here again. I sit in the back yard under the shade in the corner of the patio, eat the hot and delicious meal, and sip my coffee. It’s not a bad life, as far as it goes. I wish I was back home in Mexico, which is strange, because I spent so long in Mexico wishing I was here in the States.