Reaper Read Online A. Zavarelli (Boston Underworld #2)

Categories Genre: Action, Alpha Male, Angst, Bad Boy, Crime, Dark, New Adult, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Boston Underworld Series by A. Zavarelli
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Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
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Because he set this up. Set me up.

He knew Ronan would come in tonight, and he wanted him to see me. But I honestly could never have predicted the reaction I’m getting right now.

He takes me down the hall and finds the door to the basement. My head jerks with every step, and I try unsuccessfully to wiggle free one more time. When he finally stops at the bottom of the stairs, he doesn’t even let me go. He just slides me down the front of his body and grips my ass with his palms before dropping me into a kneeling position before him.

I should be yelling at him, probably. Or something. But he’s so angry. I’ve never seen him this way. He’s fumbling with his belt, yanking down his briefs so that his cock springs free. It bobs once in front of my face before he shoves it in the direction of my mouth, bumping it against my lips.

Ronan and I have always had a fucked up way of going about things. The first time he fucked me, it was next to my dead boyfriend’s body. The first blowjob, in a basement he uses to kill people. He isn’t at all sweet. But if I wanted sugar, I’d eat a fucking cupcake.

I reach up and grab his thighs to anchor me as I drag him into my mouth. There isn’t any uncertainty on his face tonight. There’s nothing but ownership and wrath fueling this episode. But every time I draw him into my mouth, he groans.

His hands are in my hair, rough. He twists my head to suit his needs and uses me like a toy. If it were anyone else, I’d be pissed. But instead, I’m so fucking wet for him right now. I want him to use me. To take me. To be so out of control he can’t help himself. I love it when he’s like this. Harsh and dirty. I want him to use me up. I want him to toss me around and take me however he wants. The sex is so much hotter with Ronan because there are feelings involved. Emotions. I care about this man. And I want to serve him, right here in this dirty hallway.

I moan around him, and it only serves to rile him further.

“Is that good for ye?” he asks.

I mumble an affirmative around him, and he shoves my face deeper, making me choke on his cock.

“Is that the way ye like it?” His nostrils flare, and his fingers dig into my face. “Filthy like Donny used to do?”

I blink up at him in horror and confusion and jerk away, wiping my mouth. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me,” he snarls. “Is that what ye like? Ye want me to treat you like a filthy whore?”

I shove him backwards as I stand up and he stumbles back a step. I don’t make it two feet before he’s yanking me back to him, trapping me between him and the wall. Ronan’s never been gentle with me, but right now he’s being downright caustic.

“Don’t you ever fucking talk to me like that again!” I scream at him. “You fucking asshole…”

“I can do whatever I like with ye, Sasha,” he announces. “Ye’re mine.”

And with that declaration, he tries to kiss me. I bite him, and it makes him bleed, but he doesn’t stop. He grunts and devours me like he has every right to. And then he’s pulling away, glowering at me. Like I’m the one who needs a frigging lobotomy.

“What the fuck is your problem?” I ask him. “You’re acting like a lunatic.”

He crouches lower and moves in on me, so that his gaze is directly across from mine.

“You let him touch you,” he growls. “Ye fucking let him touch you.”

And that’s what all of this comes down to. Fucking Donovan. He put his slimy hands on me, and Ronan has the nerve to blame me for it. Pressure builds behind my eyes, and leaks out in the form of big, salty tears before I can get a grip.

“I didn’t have a choice!” I yell in his face. “I’ve never had a fucking choice! You’re all a bunch of fucking assholes. You just take what you want, and you don’t even care…”

He kisses me again.

This time, it’s gentle. His hands are on my face, holding me like I’m the most precious thing in the world to him. Like I wasn’t just on my knees a moment ago blowing him in a dirty hallway while he called me a whore. And I know it’s because I’m crying now. He made me cry. I said I wouldn’t cry over a man again, but this one made me cry. And yet, when he soothes me from the hurt that he caused, I cling to him.



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