Saint Read Online A. Zavarelli books (Boston Underworld #4)

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: 91
Estimated words: 91064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
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“Scarlett.”

He’s pissy with me, and I don’t blame him.

But I’m pissy with him too.

And with the whole fucking world for that matter.

“Enjoying the show?”

“What do you care?” he replies.

“I thought we’d already established that you were mine to play with?”

My hands move up his chest before he traps them between us.

“Well, I’m done playing. So find another victim.”

My chin trembles, but I continue on with the charade, because it’s the only way I know.

“Did you know that I used to be a dancer too?”

I grind my ass into his hard on for emphasis.

His eyes darken and I lean into him, laying claim to his lips with mine before he yanks me away again.

“No,” he says.

“I know you want me,” I argue. “I can feel how much you do.”

He doesn’t answer. Or give in. Not even a little bit.

And the threat of tears is real, and I can’t let him see me cry. Because you don’t ever let them see you cry.

I bury my face in his neck and breathe in his scent. Nothing has ever smelled so good.

“You’ve messed me up real good, you know.”

He doesn’t respond, but he does touch my back.

“Is that a truth or a lie?” he asks.

“It’s the truth this time,” I swear.

He isn’t convinced though.

“Please.” My voice breaks. “Just for tonight. Then you’ll never have to see my face again.”

There’s a long moment where I hold my breath, unsure what happens next. But one hand on my back becomes two, and he wraps his arms around me, pulling me in. His lips are at my ear, stirring the primal need in both of us when he whispers.

“So dance for me then.”

Only, he doesn’t let me go.

I reach up and tangle my fingers in his hair, tipping his head back so I can kiss his throat while I roll my hips over his erection.

I am desperate for this. For him. I am desperate to feel something good. Anything to take away the hurt inside of me.

Rory takes it away like nobody else can.

He leans forward and captures my mouth with his. And we kiss like we’ve never kissed before. This thing between us is a force of nature.

I want him.

I want him so fucking much, and I tell him so.

He takes me by the hand and drags me out the back door to his all-black Dodge Challenger. Like most men, Rory enjoys the vibrations and the sounds these babies make. And I will give him this.

He’s hot as fuck driving it.

He isn’t as flashy as Crow with his blue GranTarismo Sport because Rory is a classic. He doesn’t need the bells and whistles.

All he needs is someone who gets him.

And I’m here, and I tell him not to take me back to his place.

“Let’s do something crazy,” I beg him.

“What did you have in mind, Satan?”

“Show me what this car is made of.”

He smiles, and it’s all dimples. “Does that get ye hot, sweetheart?”

“Only one surefire way to find out.”

I relax my head and settle in while Rory drives. Far away, to an empty stretch of highway. I want him to keep going, forever and ever, with one hand on my thigh, the other on the wheel.

I toy with the radio and find a good station.

Wreak Havoc by Skylar Grey comes on.

I turn it up and Rory switches gears and lays down on the accelerator. Seventy. Eighty. Ninety and climbing.

He rolls down the windows and my hair whips around my face. I laugh and scream and push my face out the window. He pushes his hand between my thighs and inside of me.

“No knickers?” he yells over the music and the wind.

“No knickers.”

I spread my legs for him and unbutton the top of my dress. I’m wet for him, for this, for the adrenaline high I needed so badly.

He gives it to me hard.

Fucking me with his hand while he drives.

“This fast enough for you?”

“Faster,” I tell him.

The speedometer climbs and so does the tempo of his hand. I’m close, and I could get off on this. Only this.

I unbuckle my seat belt and climb over the gear shift instead.

“Jesus Christ,” he grunts when I straddle him.

“I’ll do all the work.”

“Scarlett.”

It’s a half-assed protest cut short when I peel down the top of his jeans and fetch his cock.

“Keep your hands on the wheel,” I tell him.

And then I use him to get me off. Grinding all over him, but not letting him inside.

The vibrations of the car rumble up beneath the seat while the vibration of his groans rumble against my chest.

I don’t want it to end.

Rory wants desperately for it to begin. His cock is plump and painfully swollen, leaking pre-cum as I rub against him.

He licks at my collar bone and then bites me. And for a split second, I let him grope my tits before I make him put his hand back on the wheel.



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