Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 62820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
“So, do I outline the tree trunk?” Rafe asked, his hand starting to move up in a straight line.
I shook my head and grabbed his wrist to stop him. “No. Just sort of dab or make little strokes. Like this.” I demonstrated and he fumbled to imitate me.
“It doesn’t look like a tree,” he commented.
“Ye of little faith.” I said with a laugh.
I led him and we filled in more dark places as I mapped out the tree in my head. “Now we’ll go back in with some lighter browns and yellows. Help me mix it on the palette.”
I squirted some out of the acrylic tubes and that was when I felt his eyes on me. When I glanced up, I met the intensity of his gaze.
Close, he was so close. He dipped his fingers in and began to swirl the colors without me even instructing. My breath caught as he grabbed my wrist and said, “Show me again,” tugging me towards the canvas in a way that had my body wrapping around his from behind.
Suddenly I was very aware of every contour of his warm body in front of mine. Of the strength in his bicep as he extended his arm toward the painting.
Wait, what was happening? How had the power dynamic shifted so suddenly? I was supposed to be the one running this show. But now, now he was—
His firm, strong fingers interlocked with mine, smearing paint as our hands extended, the painting forgotten as my breath hitched and he spun.
He crushed his lips to mine and I wound my arms around his neck.
The tension that had built between us was suddenly released in a tsunami. We were getting paint all over each other but neither of us gave a fuck. I needed him. I needed him as desperately as he’d needed me last night.
I was so lost without him. I’d been so lost as soon as I’d left this place. I’d pretended, I’d been so good at pretending. I pretended I was a whole woman, normal. I grew out my natural brown hair and stopped with the goth make-up. I told myself I’d left Darlington in my rearview and that my past didn’t have to define my future.
But it was just an open wound that had never healed.
This boy, now a man, had dug himself inside me too deep.
Yes, deep. I needed him inside me deep.
I shoved my leggings down and Rafe was on the same page. He did the same with his pants and then he had me pressed up against the nearest wall.
His cock was already rock hard, and I was slick as honey. He speared me with his cock, and I groaned in satisfaction at being filled with him.
God, yes. This was what I’d needed, what I’d always needed. What I’d never known but always known.
I scrabbled to grab his shirt to bring him closer but then that wasn’t enough. No, I needed his skin. I shoved his shirt up and then bit at his skin. Hungry for him. For every part of him.
He shouted in surprise as I dug my teeth into his chest. And then he dragged my head up and kissed me hard, devouring me back.
He fucked me long and hard, and then he stared into my eyes with an intensity that should have scared me but didn’t. He fucked me slow and deep then.
And then tears streamed down my face as the orgasm rocked me in a series of shudders and his face went taut as he emptied himself deep inside me, each of us clutching each other for dear life.
My missing piece was in place at last. With Rafe, at last, I was truly home.
13
Rafe
If I could make time stand still I would. Things had felt so normal… or as normal as you could get while locked in a room, surrounded by four walls that seemed to inch closer and closer together each day, each minute, each second. Our connection—though brief—had been real.
And as we both stared at the large box on our bed, we both knew that another Trial would occur tonight. Fallon had handled each Trial with a courage I didn’t know she possessed. Frankly, a courage that I needed to get through them myself. She never faltered. She never refused. She attacked each one with a vengeance. The girl even allowed the fuckers to tattoo her hip.
To tattoo her with their Order emblem!
But from what I had heard from Sully… we were lucky it was just a tattoo. The Elders actually insisted on the first two belles—and the countless belles before them—to be branded with a hot iron. Fallon lucked out by it not being done to her but rather a tattoo instead. Maybe Montgomery made changes within the Order already. Maybe...
I stared down at my fresh tattoo of the sabers crossed and realized that though I had a tattoo to forever remember this Initiation, Fallon would also forever have a reminder on her hip.