Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“Why are you always doing this?” I pant against him. “Why do you always do this?”
His only answer is to fuck me into the wall. Being the psychopath that I clearly am, I come so hard I nearly black out. I want him. But he’s so bad for me. The worst. And still, I clamp down around him, pulling him deeper inside.
He’s putting me on display right now. Anyone could come down here and see us. I can only imagine what we look like. Him fully dressed, me naked and pressed against the wall. Lipstick smeared, mascara running down my face. Good and thoroughly used by him.
I wonder if Ronan’s thinking about that too, when he groans and finishes inside of me.
Without a condom. Again.
Jesus. This fucking man.
His forehead falls against mine, and we both just hold on to each other until our breathing calms. And then he releases me and I slide down his body until my toes touch the floor.
His come is still leaking out of me when I bend over to pick up the scraps of my clothing. I attempt in vain to make myself decent while Ronan watches. He’s already zipped and apart from his bloody lip, there’s not a bit of evidence he just fucked me into next week.
“I hope you enjoyed that,” I tell him. “Being that it was the last time.”
He looks at me. And we both know it’s a lie. This thing between us isn’t over. I'll always be enslaved to this man. I'd serve him any day of the week and twice on Sundays. Because, fuck me, that’s why.
He could just come out and say it if he really wanted to. Rub it in my face and tell me the ugly truth. Instead, he simply says, “Come on. I’m taking ye home.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sasha
When Ronan said he was taking me home, the most logical conclusion would be that he meant to my place. So when we pull up to an unfamiliar house in Beacon Hill I stare over at his shadowed profile and wait for an explanation.
But Ronan being Ronan, he doesn’t bother giving me one. Instead, he steps out of the car and comes around to open my side and then escorts me up the stairs. He’s looking around the street, his eyes darting at every shadowed car and bush in the vicinity. And I’m used to him being uptight, but not like this. He’s on high alert, and it’s making me nervous.
“Is something wrong?” I ask him.
He glares at me. “Aye, something’s wrong. You were flashing your tits and ass for all the lads tonight. After I’d taken you. Made you my woman.”
I’m still staring at him in disbelief when he drags me through the door. And then I’m being attacked by the last thing I ever expected to see in his house.
A frigging Corgi.
I bend down to greet her, and she licks my hand before wiggling her butt back and forth and whining at Ronan. He calls her into the kitchen and gives her some food, but it’s obvious she only wants his attention. Ronan doesn’t seem to understand this… the most basic of emotions, and it’s just so Ronan that I can’t help but smile.
“She wants you to pet her,” I tell him. “Hold her.”
“How can ye tell?” he asks.
I want to tell him it’s obvious, but the more I’m around Ronan the more I learn he actually does need things like this explained.
“That’s why she gets so excited,” I say. “When you come in the door. She does it every time, right?”
“Aye,” he says. “I thought it meant she was hungry. That’s what Crow said.”
I roll my eyes and set down my bag. “No, Ronan. It means that she missed you. While you are out and about in the world and doing your thing every day, a dog only has interactions with you to look forward to.”
“But why would she look forward to that?” he asks.
“Because she loves you.”
He glances down at the little Corgi who is staring up at him with an expression I know far too well. It’s the same damned expression I get when I look at him, too. Ronan moves to the fridge, and the dog comes running to me. I pick her up in my arms and smile.
“You and me, sister,” I murmur. “We’re just a couple of suckers, huh?”
“Would you care for a drink?” Ronan asks very formally.
“No,” I answer. “What’s her name?”
He comes back into view. “Her name is dog. And how did ye know it was a girl?”
I frown at him and shake my head. “You have to give her a real name. And it’s pretty easy, Ronan. She doesn’t have any balls.”
He looks away uncomfortably and then sits down on the sofa. He’s back to being stiff and unnatural and I have no idea what I’m even doing here.