Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
I shift my gaze away, but like metal to a magnet, my eyes are drawn back and linger at the apex of her thighs. It’s a sin to gaze at her like this, but God already knows I’m a sinner, and my afterlife will be an inferno of hellfire.
Her legs shift open, and her pussy glistens under the moonlight. She moans, and panic rises within me. But my unease is soon put to rest as she settles again. My hand roams to my rock-hard cock, and I rub myself, hoping to find some relief. I’ve never been so hard in my damn life, and this girl hasn’t even touched me.
I pull my dick from my gray sweatpants and spit on my palm. Gripping my shaft firmly, I glide my hand up and down. A moan escapes my lips as I take in Isla’s luscious curves. The woman is beyond beautiful. Every inch of her begs to be explored with my hands, mouth, and tongue. I fall to my knees, my eyes locked on her perfect cunt. It calls to me to suck, lick and flick. To make her moan and scream my name in pure ecstasy.
Her legs spread further, and for a moment, I contemplate slipping between her thighs and shoving my dick deep inside her. That’s the darkness in me, the voice that whispers for me to take what I want and never give a moment’s thought to how it will affect another. It’s the same voice that helped me survive. The dark whisper that’s kept me alive.
I reach out but force myself to stop before my fingers brush her pussy lips and tumble into the abyss. I could replace all her pain with earth-shattering pleasure.
A groan escapes my lips as I’m pulled further into bliss, imagining her body covered in sweat and my name a moan on her lips as she writhes beneath me.
I’m a sick fuck.
I realize how fucked up I am as I violate her. My mind is desperate to justify my actions. I’m not touching her. I’m simply enjoying the view she’s placed in front of me. This is my world; gray. Nothing is black and white. No one is good or evil. I’m accustomed to walking in shadows, with one foot braced in heaven and the other in hell. But taking advantage of a woman who’s been broken by my son is the lowest I’ve ever fallen.
I groan and rush into the bathroom. I turn on the shower and leave the temperature on cold. I need the freezing water to shake me out of my feverish need.
Regret is a venomous emotion. It holds on to you within its grasp and twists you until I don’t know what’s up or down. I have many regrets. I regret not getting help for my mother and not standing up to my father. I regret falling under the spell of a predator who manipulated me when she saw my pain and trauma. I regret succumbing to my darkness for that beautiful woman who entranced me. I regret producing a son who’s just like my father.
But as I stand under the cascading water, pumping my dick harder and faster, my biggest regret is that I can’t cage the beast that wants to claim Isla as my own.
I’m no better than my father or Paul. I’m just better at hiding how much of a piece of shit I am.
Chapter Nine
ISLA
Crashing surrounds me. My instinct is to rush under the bed and hide.
They’re fighting again. Daddy’s always mad. Tonight, he throws his dinner against the wall and makes Momma eat off the floor. He always does this to Momma. No wonder she never laughs anymore.
Joseph pulls at his arm, but my father tosses him aside. It works. He’s not focused on Momma anymore. His foot is no longer at her head, holding her down to the bowl on the floor, but I don’t like how he’s staring at Joseph. That’s his angry look. The last time I saw his eyes slit in anger like that, he stroked my sister Sara with a belt so hard that she started bleeding. After that night, Sarah never spoke again. Momma keeps begging Daddy to get help for her, but he ignores the requests. I think he hates Sarah more than the rest of us. I hear him in her room at night, making weird noises as he calls her bad words. When he leaves, he’s always fixing his belt.
Lost in the past, I see my father covered in blood and Joseph’s lifeless body at his feet.
“Isla.”
A deep voice penetrates my nightmares. I try to speak, but I’m assaulted with silence.
“Isla, stop screaming. Please, stop.”
The voice sounds tortured. He begs and shakes my shoulders. I need to tell him about Joseph, what my father did. But I can’t form words. My hands. I stare at my hands. They don’t have crimson on them, but I know they’re stained with blood.