Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 109882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
He advanced, one step, making me feel smaller, weaker.
“And after a while I thrived on the pain, on getting it and hitting back.” He grinned, and it was fucking frightening. “That’s the type of man you allow in your bed, between your thighs.” He was an inch from me now, the scent of alcohol making me drunk. “That’s the man that you’ve grown to care about.” He said that last part so low, so deep, I felt it to my marrow. “And you do care for me,” he said as if he knew that with certainty.
“The man I’ve grown to care about…” I was saying it more to myself than asking it as a question, but the truth was between us. He knew it. I knew it. And there was no point in lying.
“Have you not grown to care for me?” He reached out, grabbed a lock of my hair, and rubbed it between his fingers.
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t right now anyway.
He kept rubbing my hair. “Like a distant memory,” he whispered, almost to himself. But as soon as he let that piece of hair go, this hard mask covered his face. “I’ve come to realize the weakness you are to me is far too dangerous.” He looked into my eyes, this piercing, soul-catching expression. “It’s not what I want or need.”
He turned, but I grabbed his hand, a bold gesture. He looked over his shoulder, down at my hand, his focus severe. “Don’t you fucking see?” he said, his voice low, dangerous…deadly. “You are here for my pleasure, nothing more.” He gave this humorous, scary laugh. “What did you think would happen, little girl?”
I didn’t speak, not because I didn’t want to, but because I didn’t know what to say, how to respond. I didn’t know how to be honest with him. I wasn’t going to let his words affect me, wasn’t going to let him try and push me away. At least not before I told him I cared for him, wanted him.
“I do care about you.” And then, right in front of me, I saw that wall shifting, breaking down, being exposed to me.
He turned fully around to face me, that wall still breaking down. And then, before I knew what was going on, he pulled me in close. His anger was right there at the surface, and the internal war he fought was clear. He held my body to his, the stiffness of his erection pressing into my belly.
Would tonight be rough? Would he take me for the last time in the totally demented way he’d always told me about, threatened he could do to me? Sure, he’d been on the rougher side when he’d taken me, but he’d held me afterward and stroked my skin when he thought I was sleeping.
The feeling of his hand on my head, stroking my hair, gentle, caressing sweeps down the length, had me wishing for more time. I wished things could be different. I wished this could be permanent.
He took me to bed then, laying me down softly, being so gentle it almost brought tears to my eyes. This was not a side I’d ever seen in Cameron before.
He took my clothes off, his hands soft, sweet even. The kisses, licks, and nibbles made me think of this as a good-bye, that one moment where he was mine and I was his. Once we were naked, his body on top of mine, his hard cock nestled right between my thighs, I was the one who reached down. I was the one who grabbed his dick, placed the tip at my entrance, and urged him to penetrate me.
I wanted to feel him deep in my body, stretching me in the way he always did. This was our last time, and although I hated it, wanted to demand he accept what was going on, admit he had feelings for me, I kept my mouth shut.
And then he did push into me, rocked back and forth, kept his hand on my throat, and took control. He was gentle, not rushing it, and a part of me knew he wanted it to last. A part of me knew he wanted me to stay, even if he didn’t say the words, even if he wouldn’t.
I let him fill me up, claim me, make me understand I was the only woman, the one who held his attention. It didn’t matter what tomorrow held. In this moment I didn’t care about anything but being with him.
And when we both found that completion, and he filled me up in the most basic of senses, he pulled out and lay beside me. He held me, pushed my hair from my face, and stared into my eyes. The tattoos, his scars, the life he’d led and the one he continued to lead, didn’t mean anything in that moment. It was just a man and a woman.