Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 105803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Just the memory of his face buried between my thighs sends arousal straight to my clit.
In the shower I sit with my back to the wall on the floor and open my legs wide so the cool water can rain down between them and soothe the raw skin.
I press my head against the wet tiles and think about my husband and the things he did to me last night. About the size of him. About how he stretched me. Filled me completely. Found pleasure points in my body not even I knew about.
And despite feeling sore and sensitive, my body reacts to the memory and the rhythmic spray of water pounding against my clit.
I widen my legs farther as my breathing quickens. I think about Beast’s muscular body and how it feels when he is sliding in and out of me and my toes begin to curl.
I think about his breath on my cheek and his growl against my ear as his orgasm builds and I feel my own gathering between my legs.
I arch my neck and bite my lip, thinking about the Beast growling above me, relentlessly thrusting inside me as I come on his cock.
My fingers spread across the wet tiles and my hips begin to stir. I groan and then cry out as the pleasure tears up from the very tip of my toes and spreads across every inch of me.
I press my head harder against the tiles and let the full body orgasm consume me. Second after second, wave after wave, until I am a boneless heap on the shower floor.
For a moment I don’t move, because I’m not sure my legs are going to support me. So I wait till my racing pulse eases and I come down from my high.
Once I’m sure I can stand, I towel myself off and get dressed, resisting the urge to crawl back into bed and sleep because I feel hazy and lulled from a late night of orgasms.
Instead, I make my way down to the kitchen where Mrs. V is preparing breakfast. I slide onto a stool opposite her at the counter and watch her making coffee.
“You look hungry. Those late nights can make for hungry work.” She gives me a knowing wink and my cheeks warm because I realize we probably left a mess in the kitchen last night, after Beast fed me strawberries and ice cream, and then fucked me on the counter.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, Mrs. V, did we leave much of a mess?”
She laughs warmly. “It was no bother. Only some melted ice cream and a few strawberries. Besides, it was reassuring to see.”
“What do you mean?”
“That boy has waited a long time for you. It’s nice to see you’re finally here.”
“Are you saying you’re happy he’s married?”
“I’m saying Beast is a complicated man. Not indulgent with the ladies. Always beating himself up over something that was out of his control. But I’ve seen that boy smile more times since you came along than I have in the twenty-nine years I’ve worked here.” She hands me a mug of coffee. “That’s your doing, Belle. And if that means I’ve got to clean up some melted ice cream and spilled berries every now and again, then I’m happy to do that every day for the rest of my days. Now, how about I make you some waffles.”
I bite my lip, warmed by her kind words. “Thank you.”
She gives me a kindly pat on my hand before moving off to prepare the waffles, and I can’t help but smile as I watch her work her magic.
It smells good. And I feel ready to eat my weight in waffles.
Which is good.
Because I think I’m going to need all my strength for when Beast comes home and fucks me into tomorrow.
CHAPTER 44
BEAST
It’s early when I pull into the parking lot of the county morgue.
Inside, I find Sheriff Coulter and Dr. Beaver waiting for me. They’re standing in the county morgue in front of a set of remains, a sheet covering them. The stench is foul. Decomp and salt water.
“Do you know who it is?” I ask the sheriff.
“No. But I thought you might notice a distinguishing mark or an item of clothing.”
He thinks this might be Dodger.
If the remains do belong to him, then it will pick at the slowly healing scab that has allowed the club to move forward since Dodger disappeared. It will bring a lot questions. Especially if there is enough left of the body to show his death was no accident.
Beaver pulls back the sheet and an odorous waft of decay and death hits me.
The remains are black and bloated from decomposition and some of the skin has sloughed away from being in the water.
“Do you recognize him?” Beaver asks.
“Yeah, I do,” I say, my eyes roaming the remains and noting the familiar tattoos on his hands. “It’s Gunner McIverson. The President of the Unhinged Psychos.”