Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 142939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
But as she begins to pull her hoodie over her head, I make no move. I only watch, my blood heating as she tosses it aside and turns toward me. She’s wearing a tight white tank top, no bra underneath. Her hard nipples poke through the fabric, and my mouth waters as she bends down and shucks off her black pants and socks.
Her panties are bright pink and high on the sides. When she turns again and double checks the window, I see it’s a thong. Her ass is on full display, the roundness of it making my hard cock ache.
“Locked. Safe. Not busted.” She sighs and reaches up, releasing her hair from her black elastic. The strands fall around her shoulders in a waterfall of beauty, and I want to know what it would look like wrapped around my fist. “Mischief managed.” She turns and strides into her bathroom, the light clicking on and almost illuminating me, but not quite. I’m still in the shadows, still with a view of her as she brushes her teeth.
I should’ve already sprung the trap on her, should’ve scolded her until she told me what the hell she was doing out of the house this late at night. From the looks of it, she’s done this before. How have I missed it? How has the security footage not given her away? These and a million other questions burn inside me, not the least of which is: Did you sneak out to meet another man? That thought has me gripping the arms of the chair so hard one of them creaks.
She stills, her head turned slightly to the side for a moment.
I force myself to relax and take a deep, silent breath. I do, though all it does is lower my temperature to a vicious simmer.
She goes back to brushing, humming a tune as she does.
Then she flips off the light and heads to bed.
I watch as she crawls between the sheets then grabs her phone, firing off a few quick texts. Who to? Her fucking lover? My rage tries to swallow me whole again. This time I let it.
I rise slowly. She doesn’t see me, the light from her phone blinding her to anything else in the room.
She nibbles her bottom lip, then smiles a little as a message comes through to her.
I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but I do know that whatever little high school prick she’s talking to isn’t long for this earth. I’m going to find him, and I’m going to make it hurt before I kill him. I’ll do shit to this boy that will make the Butcher go green at the gills.
Advancing on her, I stand by the bed and watch her, the way her fingers race across her screen, the way her tits press perfectly against her top. I want to see her panties again. Fuck, I want them in my goddamn mouth.
But first, she needs to learn a lesson.
The moment she darkens her cell phone and reaches to put it on her nightstand, she gasps, her eyes finally catching sight of someone in her room. That’s when I move, slapping my hand over her mouth as I grab one of her wrists and pin her to the bed, my body covering her as I feel every fucking bit of her forbidden body.
4
CARINA
For a split second, my heart jumps into my throat, but then the smell of Gilly fills my lungs, and I relax, knowing it’s him that has me pinned to the bed. Damn, his body feels good against me. Since I’ve been pulled back home from school, I've dreamed of moments like this. Ones that had Gilly slipping into my room to have his way with me. So many nights I’ve played that fantasy out in my mind. It’s hard not to when you’re watching the people around you fall in love.
In those fantasy-filled dreams, Gilly and I would enjoy the thrill of it being a secret for a while but then eventually come clean. Obviously, none of that ever happened. He’s not in my room because he wants to be. I’m in trouble. If I had to guess, it’s because he caught me sneaking back into the house. If he had caught me sneaking out, things would have played out differently. I probably never would have made it past the estate wall.
My brother, unlike a lot of the families in our world, prepared me for the life I was going to grow up in and likely live in one day. As long as I have the Palermo last name, I’ll always be a target or tool that could be used against my brother. That’s why he made sure he trained me. I was taught how to handle guns and knives. I was shown what to do if someone tried to attack me.