Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 149338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
“Little girl, I’m not the man to do that with. I’m not yours to fuck with, not now… not fucking ever,” he roared, getting closer to my face. “Do you want to be my whore? Is that what you want?”
He was trying to scare me, push me away, wanting me to think he didn’t care about me. I wasn’t going to let him get away with the bullshit he was trying to portray.
Mirroring his menacing glare, I stated, “Yes.” Challenging him with my eyes.
He didn’t falter, sitting up between my legs, sliding the zipper of his slacks down with a devious grin on his face. He roughly tugged my thighs toward him, effortlessly sliding my heated body down the silk sheets. Placing me where he wanted me, a few inches away from his dick.
“You want me to fuck you like a whore, cariño,” he mocked, pulling out his hard cock, fisting it in the palm of his hand. Jerking himself off.
My eyes dilated as I took in his length, my chest rising and falling. Watching the tormented man in front of me, making me want him even more. He reached for a condom in his wallet, not even bothering to get undressed. I knew what he was about to do.
Actions speak louder than words.
Shutting my eyes immediately, I fisted my hands in the sheets, pressing my fingernails hard into my skin. Bracing myself for the ton of fucking bricks that were about to crumble down on me.
“You look me in the fucking eyes when I’m talking to you,” he ordered, crudely grabbing hold of my chin, tilting my face toward him.
With glazed, watery eyes, I opened them. Tears spilling out of the corners as I watched him roll on a condom. His glare hadn’t wavered from mine.
I replied, “Yes.” Not wanting him to feel the pleasure of my pain.
I wasn’t going to back down. I knew what I was getting myself into by provoking him. I had witnessed both sides of this beautiful man.
The good and the bad.
Heaven and Hell.
The love…
Now, he was going to show me his hate.
The Devil wasn’t sedated anymore. He leaned over, his lips getting close to my face, his cock at my opening.
In a sick, twisted way I wanted this. His dominance had always been an aphrodisiac for me. I knew if I uttered the words he would stop. There was no trepidation, only a power struggle that I refused to lose.
He scoffed out, “Wearing my fucking shirt, trying to pretend like you belong to me. Well, I’m about to show you that you don’t.” Gently, thrusting his way through my virtue. Not wanting to hurt me... yet. Letting me adjust to the size of his cock, the harshness of his actions he was about to prove. His words a hurricane of emotions, harsh then soft and mesmerizing all at once. His touch didn’t feel intrusive, didn’t inflict fear, but I didn’t feel loved either.
Which was what he really wanted.
I gripped the sheets tighter, biting my lower lip until I tasted blood. Preparing my self for the pain I knew was coming. It wouldn’t be his movements that were causing me pain, that were breaking my heart, that were killing me inside.
It was the fact that he wouldn’t even look at me. Proving once and for all that he didn’t care about me, that he didn’t want this, didn’t want us. He was just taking the easy way out.
Fucking me into understanding.
Knowing, I wouldn’t be able to forgive him after this.
Knowing, a part of me would always hate him. Taking away the one thing I held so sacred away from me.
My heart.
After everything I’d been through, it was always mine. I never let any of the shitty things that happened break me down, make me weak. Ever. I wouldn’t have been able to survive if I did.
This was our ending, when it should have been our beginning.
Softly thrusting in and out. Subsiding the discomfort to pleasure instead. He stopped for a few moments when he was deep inside me. As if his actions were killing him, too. A pained look crossed his face, but it was gone as fast as it came. My hands instinctively reached for him for comfort, for support, for something other than what he was giving me. He roughly pinned them over my head, not allowing me to touch him, even for one second, to feel his warmth, his turmoil, or his fucking love. Knowing that’s all it would take for him to stop what he was about to do. His tempo changed, gone was any tenderness he showed thus far. He started to thrust in and out of me, making me feel like I was nothing but his toy.
His whore.
Not showing me any connection, any love, anything of the man I knew that still lived inside of him. Making me feel as if I was nothing, as if what we shared was nothing. Tears rolled down my face, and I couldn’t hold back the heave that escaped from my chest. He immediately stopped, hovering above me, his eyes finally staring down into mine. Another sob escaped my lips, shuddering beneath him. Willing him to come back to me.