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)
I thrust in, and she squeals again. “It feels so full.”
“Good. That’s what you deserve for trying to spite me,” I reply, going deeper and deeper with every stroke.
With my free hand, I slide along her still sensitive pussy, which makes her push up against the desk. Especially when I shove a finger inside. I love to see her squirm for me.
I circle around her clit all while fucking her ass, seeing her unravel more and more until her moans come out in short gasps, her eyes almost rolling into the back of her head.
Right then, I bury myself deep inside.
She comes hard, her pussy dripping with sweet wetness as I play with it while she falls apart. The dirtiness of it pushes me over the edge, and I let myself go inside her. I clutch her ass with both hands as my seed jets into her, filling her to the brim. The groan that follows is nothing short of animalistic.
The sheer force of my orgasm is so tremendous that I want to pounce down on top of her, so I do. My mouth opens up, and I plant sweet, delectable kisses all over her back, the salty taste of sweat mixing with my saliva, making my dick bounce up and down with excitement while it’s still inside her.
However, she suddenly pushes herself off the desk and steps aside so hard that I’m forced to pull back my dick and my fingers. Panting, she pats down her dress and glares at me.
“Don’t … kiss me,” she hisses. “That wasn’t a part of the agreement.”
I frown, taken aback by her sudden need to hate me again, even though she very much wanted me to fuck her just now. Still, it stings when she says that.
But I swallow down my pride. “Fine. I got a little carried away.”
She keeps staring at me, her eyes sometimes wavering a little bit to ignore my nakedness. But I don’t mind. She wants to gawk? Have at it. I’m all hers.
She swiftly snatches some tissues out of the box on my desk and cleans herself up, throwing them into the bin like she’s saying goodbye to literally everything that even remotely reminds her of me. Like she’s trying to make this clinical, but it’s not going to work.
“I’ve held my end of the deal. Now it’s your turn,” she says.
I raise a brow. Well, that’s one way to get to the point.
Sighing out loud, I tuck in my dick, unable to hide my disappointment. “Fine. You want to know what happened to my mother?”
I can’t say I enjoy talking about it, but if she really wants to know all there is to know about me, I guess I have no choice. After all, I want her to trust me again.
So I look her dead in the eyes when I say, “My father murdered her.”
Shock makes her eyes grow big.
“I’m not done yet,” I say, as I throw a look at the woman in the picture on my desk.
The woman who hated me so much that she wished she never had me.
But that woman was the catalyst for what I am today.
Along with Amelia.
Ten years ago
Despite the fact that I know what my father does for a living, I’m still horrified to watch him dig a grave for the man he just killed.
It wasn’t intentional. Or at least, that’s what he told me.
But the man refused to confess, and the harder my father pushed with punishments, the less the man began to care. And it enraged my father, made him boil over until he could no longer stop himself.
And I watched him do it.
I watched him hit that man with an ax until the blood squirted all over the walls of the basement.
Until his squeals died out, and there was nothing left but the ragged breaths of my father.
I long knew he was capable of violence.
But I never realized just how deep it went.
Just how far he’d go if something didn’t go his way.
My father stops digging for a moment, only to give me a stare laced with anger. I swallow as he approaches me and hits me against the back of the head.
“You are just gonna stand there and do nothing all day, huh?” he growls, smacking me again. “You disappointing fuck. Get moving!”
He pushes the shovel into my hand and shoves me forward so hard that I almost fall over right into the grave myself. All he does is laugh. “You’re pathetic.”
I throw him a look and start digging, even though my conscience is weighing down on me.
Every day, my father steps further and further away from the rules that govern our house. No longer does he wait until someone actually commits a sin, until someone is brought in front of us by their family.
No, he just picks people up from the streets and then makes up some sort of story as to why they deserve it.