Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 72308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Oh fuck. So good.
It was my job to initiate everything, but I never had a chance because he always beat me to the punch.
His arm supported my back, and he brought his face over mine as he fucked me hard on the kitchen counter, drilling me like a sailor home on leave, nailing me like he had never had the privilege of fucking me before.
I moaned and screamed on the counter, on the spot where I made lunch for my kids every day, full of the best dick I’d ever gotten. My hands gripped his ass, and I screamed as loud as I wanted, fucked in a way I’d only dreamed about. “Grave…”
When I came back into the living room after my shower, Grave was on the couch, working on his phone. He was dressed again, the only sign of our rendezvous the slight messiness of his short hair.
“I thought you left.”
He pocketed his phone and gave me his full attention. “Not until I take you to lunch.”
It was impossible not to smile when he lit up my world like that. I sat on the couch beside him, my arm draped over his stomach and my chin on his shoulder. “That sounds nice.”
He looked at the end table beside him where a picture frame sat, my two kids in front of the Christmas tree. “Your kids are cute. Your daughter looks just like you.”
“Thank you.”
He looked at me again. “They’re older than I imagined.”
“Like I said, we had them young…”
“Do you have a place in mind?”
“Wouldn’t mind some pizza, I guess.”
He gave a handsome smirk. “Pizza it is.”
It was the first time I’d seen him eat carbs. To be fair, I didn’t usually eat them either.
We sat together at the table, sharing a small pizza on the checkerboard tablecloth. Every time someone walked inside, they immediately looked at Grave, especially women. Sometimes the women couldn’t stop staring, even though I was clearly with him.
It didn’t bother me because I couldn’t blame them. “How’s Camille doing?”
“Sleeps all day. Doesn’t eat.”
I took a small bite of my pizza, and I took my time chewing while I processed what he said. “Is she still staying with you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” I already thought it was strange that Grave was the first person she’d run to, but now I found this even stranger.
“Doesn’t have anywhere else to go.”
“But you’re Cauldron’s brother. Isn’t that weird? Especially since the two of you just got on good terms after a decade-long estrangement?”
He took a long time before he answered. “He may not love her, but I know he cares for her. That’s reason enough for me to help her. And I also owe her.”
“You owe her? Why?”
“Because she saved my life.”
“What? When was this?”
“Long story. The details don’t matter. But if she hadn’t stepped up, I’d be dead right now. So if she needs a place to stay until she can get back on her feet, my door is open.”
It sounded like Cauldron hadn’t been present, so in what scenario would the two of them have been together? I wanted to ask questions, but judging by the way he worded his answers, he wouldn’t talk about it. “Do you think they’ll get back together?”
“She said she wouldn’t take him back.”
“Everyone says that.”
“Cauldron has done some pretty fucked-up shit, so I think she means it.”
“So you think Cauldron will try to get her back?”
He took a long time to reflect on the question. “Unlikely.”
“Because he doesn’t love her?”
“Because he has no use for her now.”
I felt like there was a much bigger story I wasn’t privy to. “How long do you think she’ll be with you?”
“I don’t know.” He relaxed in the chair, his arm stretched over the back of the one beside him. “Is this a problem?”
“No. I just… I don’t know.”
He stared me down from across the table.
“I feel like there’s something you aren’t telling me…”
Silence. Stone-cold silence.
After I parked the car on the street, I walked to my front door, but I stopped when I spotted the man leaning against the banister at the top of the stairs. A three-piece suit. An arrogant smile.
My first instinct was to walk away and get back into my car, but this was my home, the place where I raised my children, and I would not let some entitled motherfucker chase me off. I marched up to him, knowing exactly where I kept my knife in my purse. “Get the fuck off my property, or I’ll slit your throat, asshole.”
The smile only widened. “Hard day?”
“It was great until now. Is this how you try to get laid? Desperately stalk women and wait outside their homes?”
That smile disappeared. “This is how I do business. And yes, we have business together.”
“You got your money back—”
“But that doesn’t break the contract. I signed my name and waited my turn. You. Owe. Me.”