God of Wrath (Legacy of Gods #3) Read Online Rina Kent

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Mafia, New Adult, Romance, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: Legacy of Gods Series by Rina Kent
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Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 158635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 793(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
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My only reply is grabbing him by the jacket, nails digging into the leather.

“Do you want more, my greedy little virgin?” He pounds in and out of my mouth. “I want more, too. I want to corrupt, tarnish, and ruin you so deeply, no one will recognize you when I’m done with you. Not even your fucking prince.”

And then he thrusts so wildly, I think I’ll black out.

I’ve never experienced this level of intensity. Of savage claim.

It’s like he can’t touch me hard enough, or engrave himself inside me deep enough.

Jeremy is a man who takes unapologetically, destroys ruthlessly, then walks away silently.

He’s a true monster who knows exactly what he wants. And apparently, right now, what he wants is to ruin me.

For some reason, I like that unapologetic part of him, the assertiveness in his actions. The take-it-or-leave-it attitude.

Maybe because I lack it when it matters the most—when I have to make decisions about myself.

Jeremy fucks my mouth like he has a grudge against it and me. He rams in and out at a speed I can’t keep up with.

Then he pulls out and I blink when hot spurts of his cum cover my face, sprinkling on my eyes, my cheeks, nose, lips, and neck.

Everywhere.

He reaches out a thumb, gathers his cum, and slides it inside my mouth with his middle and ring finger.

The motion is erotic and makes my legs clench, or maybe it’s the attentive way he watches me swallow every drop. Sucking his fingers clean.

The more appreciation he shows, the more diligent I become.

A gruff sound leaves his throat as he taps my lips one final time. “I knew you had an oral fixation.”

He leans over and brushes his lips against mine.

It’s a small kiss, way too soft compared to everything he’s done. Actually, the softest thing he’s done.

But then he bites my lower lip and I gasp when a metallic taste explodes in my mouth.

Jeremy licks it, then taps his own bite that I gave him. “Next time, I’ll draw your virgin blood.”

“There will be a next time?” I ask, a little scared, a little excited.

“Oh, there will be a next time.” He strokes my hair back. “You’ll be mine to do with as I please.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“I wasn’t asking.”

“Are you going to have sex with me?”

“I won’t have sex with you, Cecily. I will fuck you.”

I slowly close my eyes, letting a tear loose. I’m not sure what type of tear it is.

A resignation tear probably.

I don’t wait for him to leave as I let my body relax, wishing the dream would end.

Wishing the dream would never end.

Wishing this wasn’t a dream.

12

JEREMY

I don’t know how long I stand at the side of Cecily’s bed.

All I’m sure of is that I remain here, unmoving, watching, observing, long after she falls back asleep with tears rimming her eyes.

I reach out a thumb and wipe away those tears, smear them on the tiny freckles, then crush them between my fingers.

She’s probably sad that it’s not her fucker of a prince who came to claim her in the middle of the night.

Now that she’s asleep, she looks like the personification of inward innocence mixed with a poor relationship with her sensory world.

The worst relationship.

She’s awkward at expressing herself, being spontaneous, and letting go, even when her friends do. I know because I’ve been watching her.

Not up close and personal like following her home from the shelter or the library, but I’ve been around enough to know her schedule, where she goes and with whom.

I took a step back to give her room and see if she’d use the opening to throw herself at Landon again. Color me surprised when they only met within their group of friends and only rarely.

She wasn’t texting him back and forth, vying for his attention like a fangirl either.

What she does, however, is like and comment on each of his pretentious Instagram posts.

I stroke her white hair away from her face. Petite, soft, and with remnants of my dried cum.

The view thickens my erection, lulling me, inviting me to jerk off all over her again—this time, I’d mark her tits and cunt.

Scratch that. This time, I’d claim her cunt.

And I would break her.

I’d stretch her tiny pussy and split it in half.

These tears would turn into a tsunami if I have my way with her. Which is why I’m not.

For now.

My forefinger slides back and forth against my thigh as I caress her hair, sinking between the abnormal color that she had to wear a wig to hide during the initiation. I know because I nearly tore it off.

I know because that’s when I first figured out her identity.

Her lips part and she lets out a small moan, leaning into my touch, almost fucking purring like a cat.

I remove my hand with a jerk.



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