Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75792 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75792 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
So I let him fuck me against the wall, again and again, pounding into me until our heavy breaths mingle, sweat mixing with hot water until he groans out loud. Until we’re both lost in complete and utter debauchery, and nothing’s left but lust and longing.
And when he explodes inside me, filling me up with his warmth, I come with him. Our bodies entwined, we stare into each other’s eyes as we fall apart, not as captor and captive, but as equals. And for the first time in a long time, I feel as though I can take on whatever the world gives me … just by being in his arms.
His forehead leans against mine as he breathes out loud, his top lip hovering so close to mine that I can still taste him on my lips. I’m drunk on his kisses, drunk on our sex, wishing it would never end.
And my hands instinctively curl around his neck to toy with his hair as he gazes at me with those dark, hooded eyes from underneath his lashes. A gaze filled with so much adoration that it shatters the icy cage where I stored my frigid heart. One last kiss seals it.
Right then, my hand dives into his shirt, and I abruptly pull back. The skin on his shoulders is rugged and bumpy, like a rocky road, and I wonder why. It felt like … scars.
“What …?” I mutter as we gaze at each other, but the look on his face turns sour. He swiftly pulls back, causing my hand to drop off his shoulder.
“Don’t,” he says, adjusting his shirt even though it’s wet and must feel uncomfortable.
“I wasn’t—”
“I can’t.” He interrupted me, but not in a way that feels forced. More in a way that it hurts him to talk.
He swiftly pulls his pants back up and zips them, then turns around and walks out of the bathroom. Leaving me alone underneath this warm shower, I feel colder than when I was still out there in the rain.
Chapter 11
Eli
I walk into Amelia’s bedroom and open the closet to take out a pair of jeans and a clean shirt. It’s not a lot, but it’ll have to do. The clothes reek of a vile barbarian I don’t dare to call by name, but I’m glad he’s dead.
Still, putting this on is better than running around completely soaked or worse … half-naked.
For a second there, I forgot about all the weight I carry on my shoulder and all the history that’s marked on my back. Her kisses were divine, and her pussy tasted like heaven, and I wanted nothing more than to fuck her, so I did. I ravaged her and claimed her as I had always wanted to. Like we were star-crossed lovers meant to be.
I don’t know if she truly wanted me or if she just let me. If she played the game to make me believe she wanted it just as badly. If so … she played it like a winner. And I loved every second of our twisted little game.
But pleasure comes with a downside, and that is the fall that comes after.
And my fall … it was deep and harsh beyond imagination.
I stare at myself in the mirror, at the man I’ve become. Clothes that don’t belong to me, a house that isn’t mine, and a girl I’ve fallen head over heels for who will destroy everything I’ve worked so hard to keep.
Can I love her without losing myself? Without losing everything that makes me me?
What am I if not the house I grew up in and the rules that branded me?
These scars on my back belong there, along with all the sins that put them there, so then why am I so resentful about the pain they signify? Why do I refuse to let her see them?
Eleven Years Ago
I’ve witnessed so many people suffer that I’ve become numb to it. But when my own father stands in front of the mirror as he flagellates himself with a whip, I still stop and stare, feeling my blood curdle at the sight of him.
Our eyes connect, but he doesn’t stop, not even as fear settles in my bones and not even as the blood oozes down his skin and onto the carpet. He doesn’t stop until the count of ten.
Ten strikes.
Ten for each of the punishments he applied to one of his sinners.
I swallow hard as he places the whip in a stand and grabs a towel from the chair, sliding it over his ragged back covered in scars. He’s rarely shown himself without clothes on, especially not to me.
But then why did he call me over if he didn’t want me to witness this?
I clutch the doorjamb as he comes toward me, his face still as stoic as ever. “It was time you learned the final lesson. Now you know.”