Hate Like Honey (Corsican Crime Lord #2) Read Online Charmaine Pauls

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Mafia, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Corsican Crime Lord Series by Charmaine Pauls
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Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
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Pinching my eyes shut, I press my cheek against the covers. I tense when he buries his fingers in the flesh of my hips. Anticipation ripples through me as he parts my folds with the broad head of his cock. Knowing what’s to come doesn’t prepare me for the pleasure as he slides all the way in. Holding me in place, he rubs his groin against my ass and keeps still. My body welcomes the intrusion, my inner muscles already clenching around him.

“That’s right, dirty girl,” he says with a groan. “Milk my cock. You’re so hot when you beg without words.”

I tune him out, trying not to listen to his wicked praise, because he’s moving, and it’s all I can focus on. I can only hold on, clawing at the bedsheets as he pulls almost all the way out before slamming back again. He pumps his hips with a leisurely pace, dragging his cock over sensitive nerve endings and punctuating each thrust with a slap on the fleshy part of my right ass cheek. The sting doesn’t hurt as much as it heats my skin, and strangely, it makes me hotter. Needier.

Taking what I need, I push back when he thrusts. The fall of his palm on my ass is rhythmic, matching the pace of his pumping. Intense need throbs between my legs. I can’t get enough. He swaps hands, gripping my right hip to tan my left globe while timing the rhythm. I’m burning up on the inside and the outside, but he doesn’t allow me to go faster. He keeps me still, the force of his fingers bruising, while taking me at his own sweet pace.

My inner walls clench hard. He utters a curse but maintains the lazy pivoting of his hips. His palms no longer heat the skin of my ass. Instead, he massages my globes, wiping away the burn. Digging his fingers into my sensitive flesh, he spreads my ass cheeks and drives home with enough force to wrench a gasp from my lungs.

Finally, he gives me what I want. He bends over me and slips a hand around my waist and between my legs to massage my clit in circular movements. His pace doesn’t falter as he quickly and effectively brings me to the edge before violently pushing me over.

An orgasm rips through me at the same time as he surges deep and stills. Warmth bathes me inside. My release is instantaneous and powerful, leaving me legless and weak. When he pulls out and pins me in place to watch his seed leak from my body, I don’t have the energy to fight him.

“You’re so pretty with my handprints on your ass and my cum dripping down your thighs,” he says, finally letting me go.

I collapse flat on the bed, shame not only for the crass remark but also for how cold it leaves me creeping over my cheeks. His feet are quiet on the floor. I don’t need to open my eyes to know he’s gone. The water that comes on in the bathroom confirms it. That’s how he leaves me—discarded after being used.

I take a moment to catch my breath. To deal with the aftermath. I’ve long since accepted the awful fact that I find pleasure in the arms of my dad’s killer. It doesn’t make me feel less despicable. It’s just another bitter pill to swallow.

The room is warm, but I shiver. I’m about to get off the bed when Angelo returns. I feel him rather than hear him as he stops next to me. Despite my better judgement, I open my eyes. He stands tall and proud, the familiar hatred as he studies me darkening his eyes.

“Get up,” he says.

Fear knots my stomach. “Why?”

“It’s late. I have a long day of work ahead. I need my sleep.”

“Then sleep,” I say, unable to keep the bite from my tone.

The smile that curves his lips doesn’t reach his eyes. “You’re sleeping in my room. Come.”

He doesn’t wait. He goes ahead and opens the interconnecting door, knowing I’ll follow.

It takes effort to peel myself off the bed. Steeling my spine, I say to his back, “I’ll shower first.”

He turns to face me, that evil grin intact. “You won’t.”

I gape at him. He can’t be serious. I know what he said, but he can’t expect me to crawl into bed with a sticky skin and his cum drying on my thighs.

His eyes crinkle in the corners. “You should’ve begged when you had the chance. It’s too late now. Come before I decide to drag you in here.”

Turning his back on me, he walks through the door. I stand rooted to the spot, disbelief and a hot wave of fresh anger running through me.

“Sabella,” he says from the other room. “Now.”

“I need to get my pajamas.”


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