Total pages in book: 213
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
And she does. She obeys me, instantly spasming on my cock. Her head falls back and her lips part as her orgasm rocks through her.
I don’t stop. The second her gaze is off mine, I fuck her harder, ruthlessly, riding through her orgasm and prolonging every bit of it that I can. Dragging it out of her.
She writhes under me and her head thrashes.
My heart beats hard against my chest, feeling hers in time with me.
She’s mine. All of her is mine. For always.
Fuck Romano; fuck this city.
I pound into her harder, wanting her to feel every emotion that’s raging through me. I’m staying with her.
Her gasp is followed with a strangled moan that fuels me to grip her hips harder, giving her every bit of me.
Nothing’s going to keep me from her.
Nothing.
CHLOE
Sebastian’s phone keeps going off. I thought it was in my dream at first.
My mother was hissing something. I still hear her words as my eyes flutter open. She said, He’s lying to you. Her voice keeps me frozen under the warm sheets as the bed dips and Sebastian sits up to grab his phone.
I’m motionless as he moves. She was right here. I can still feel her. She was here.
His voice is groggy as I try to breathe and shake off the eerie feeling that my mother still haunts me in my sleep, even if I can’t remember what the dream was.
He’s lying to you.
“Yeah, what is it?” Sebastian’s voice sounds off. The worry that lingers in his tone grabs my full attention, leaving the thoughts of my mother and whatever had come to me in my sleep where it belongs, in the past. In my unconscious.
“No, no…” He rubs his brow and turns away from me as whoever it is who’s called him talks loud enough that I can almost hear the replies on the other end. “I’m sorry,” he says with a pained voice, “Yeah, yeah. Are you okay?”
The dread grows as I watch him, how he looks so hurt sitting on the edge of the bed and listening to whoever it is on the other line.
He swallows thickly before saying goodbye and tossing the phone on his nightstand. With his head hung low, I can hear him swallow.
“Who was it?” I dare to ask in a whisper as if speaking too loudly would cause the pain he’s feeling to cut even deeper.
I scoot closer to him, but slowly as he lifts his head to answer, “Carter.”
My stomach twists into a knot, just like the one in my heart as Bastian adds, “His mom died.”
My throat is tight as the swell of sadness rises. I didn’t know her at all, but I knew the end had to be closer after she was moved into their house for hospice.
It’s devastating to lose your mother, whether you know it’s coming or not.
“So much death.” The words escape me slowly as I tally up the number of gravestones.
“I care more about him than any of those assholes.” Bastian’s tone is harsh and unforgiving. I peek over at him as he rubs the sleep from his eyes angrily, his feet on the floor while he still sits on the bed. I’ve never seen him look so tired, so ragged from everything and the pain of it all forces me to move closer to him, pushing the sheets and covers away to just hold him. I rest my cheek to his back and wrap my arms around him from behind.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper against his back and then lift myself up, so I can plant a small kiss on his neck. “I’m so sorry,” I tell him again.
I don’t know how close he was with Carter’s mom, but it doesn’t matter. He’s hurting. Lacing his fingers through mine, he kisses my inner wrist. “Are you okay?” he asks me, turning his head so he can look me in the eyes. Of all the things to ask, he wants to know if I’m all right.
His eyes are red with lack of sleep, his stubble is too long, and there are dark bags under his eyes as well. I have to slip my hand from his to cup his cheek and sit up to kiss him on his lips. A chaste, sweet kiss. My heart flutters every time I kiss him. It’s an odd feeling, like a magnetic pull to him.
I brush his lips with the pad of my thumb and whisper to him, “It’s not always about me, Bastian.” With his name on my lips, I look him in the eyes and say, “I’ll be okay.”
“You’re wrong,” he tells me, shifting to sit so he’s facing me. “It is always about you.”
His answer steals my breath, numbing me as he kisses my wrist again.
“You shouldn’t say things like that.” I can’t help but tell him as the words come to me.