Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 100470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“Anyway,” Rowdy says with a grunt. “Dad and Mom or anyone aside from me and Evan knows about all that. I’d like to keep it that way. Mom might die if she knew I had sex with another man.”
We both laugh, but it’s a little flat.
I have the urge to tell him all about me and Ronan. That maybe he doesn’t have to feel ashamed because we all fuck up. It’s on the tip of my tongue, but in the end, I bite it back. I refuse to out Ronan or tell what we did without his permission. Maybe someday we can tell him together.
“Thanks for confiding in me, Rowdy. I’m sorry that happened to you. I wish I could beat that motherfucker’s face in.”
He clutches the back of my neck before gently squeezing it. “You’re a good brother. Time for bed. We’re going to get our people back and soon.”
If Dad ever does truly send me away, I’ll make sure I find Evan and pay him a little visit.
No one fucks with my family and goes unscathed.
No one.
* * *
* * *
I’m so sore between my legs. It burns—feels raw. And when I went to pee, I noticed blood in my panties, which were also drenched with Ronan’s cum.
So messy.
But it was Ronan. Despite the pain, I felt a connection between us that sparked to life. Something new and tantalizing. He kissed me with fire and purpose. I still remember the way his hips flexed and thrust, the need to impale me almost animalistic.
I did that.
I made Ronan feel that way.
It was wrong, though. I mean, he’s my brother. We had sex. My parents’ worst fears happened. I keep waiting for Mom to pop her head into my tent and yell at me.
Tears burn at my eyes.
She’s not coming. She’ll never be coming.
At least now, when CJ forces himself on me, I’ll know it was Ronan—my first true love—who got that special part of me. It hurt, yes, but it also felt like our souls were melding together. The intimacy between us was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before.
I lie awake in the tent, waiting for the inevitable. Just the thought of CJ inside of me when I’m so sore has me grimacing. If only I had my knife. I’d take great joy in stabbing him in the gut for trying to have sex with me.
A giggle from nearby has me sitting up. I crawl over to the tent opening, unzip it, and poke my head out. A couple of male voices can be heard beyond the tents in the woods, which means most of them have probably gone to bed. Except CJ, which is good. It would be a great opportunity to escape.
Maybe this is our only shot.
Quickly, I shove my feet back into my boots and scramble out of the tent. I scan the shadows, looking for anything to use as a weapon.
My eyes land on a stick between my tent and the one next to it—the one I’m pretty sure is Sadie’s. Soft crying can be heard, which makes bile rise up my gorge. Before I can figure out what to do about it, I hear female laughter nearby. The giggling isn’t coming from that tent. It’s coming from the woods. I squint in the darkness, looking for the source.
Mya steps between two trees, Wyatt and Olivia with her. Before, those two kids were nice and I got along with them. Now, they both stare at me with contempt. If they’re both here, does that mean Tom is forcing himself on Sadie as we speak? Terror mixed with hatred burns hot in my gut.
“You’re not supposed to be out alone,” Wyatt says, frowning. “Your husband will be angry.”
I snarl at him. “What husband?”
I’m not married, no matter what their cultish leader says or what they believe.
He scowls at my attitude but doesn’t say anything back. Mya walks up to me, a sneer on her stupid face.
“My brother wanted you so bad, but you’re just a backwoods dumb bitch.” She curls her lip up at me. “I hope it hurts when he fucks you.”
With a growl, I shove her hard. She crashes into the tent with a shriek. Wyatt and Olivia scramble to help her back up.
“You psycho bitch!” she bellows, charging at me.
I’m ready for her and swing my fist this time. It connects with her face. The sickening crunch of bone is satisfying. She stumbles and falls to her knees, a loud sob ripping out of her lungs.
I take another step toward her, ready to beat this witch up, when Wyatt puts himself between us. He may be a few years younger, but I’m not opposed to hitting him too.
“Hey!” a deep voice calls out, trotting over to us. “What the hell is going on here?”