Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 142764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Asshole.
“I’m not screaming for you, idiot. I’m screaming at you. Now, let me go.” I kick at him, and I could scream thanks to the lord when my foot connects with his knee. He grunts and tumbles to the ground, bringing me down with him.
We land all as one, and he rolls at the last minute to keep my body on top, caring enough not to crush me with his hulking frame. He’s first to recover. His rough hands circle my wrists, trapping me. I struggle against him even while knowing I won’t be able to break free.
I hate that my nipples are as hard as diamonds, and that I’m dripping with need, but I still fight against the desire. I can’t let him break me. Not again.
"I have no problem pinning you to the ground and fucking you senseless right now, so if you want to continue to fight, then that’s what’s going to happen. I’ve tried to be patient, but I’m past the point of no return. I don’t give a fuck anymore. I’ll be the bad guy if you need me to be. You can fight me, beg me to stop, tell me you don’t want it, but deep down, I know you do, and I know that while your pussy strangles my cock, begging for me to fill it with my cum, all you’re doing is lying to both of us.”
“Let me up,” I growl.
The pressure on my chest is suffocating. I can feel the bottle top tucked between my thumb and forefinger. The glass is sharp enough to cut my skin, and I tighten my hold on it.
He has to let me go, or I might lose my shit.
The feeling of him…
The taste of his lips…
His scent…
It’s all too much.
The hard planes of his body pressing against mine feel so good, too good.
“Please… just let me go.” I plead.
The pressure on my chest lifts when he shifts his weight off me. My traitorous body chooses to betray me, and the whisper of a whimper slips past my parted lips when my thighs brush the length of his erection.
He’s still holding on to me, though his grasp is lax now. In an instant, I can hear his voice in my head, the sinister words he spoke right before he crushed my heart in his hands.
I’ll find another tight cunt to keep my cock warm. That’s all you ever were to me anyway, a nice, warm hole to fuck.
“Come on, Bel. Are you going to let me in, or do I have to take it from you?”
There’s a coldness in his voice, but that’s not the effect it has on me. It warms me up all over, and I know the harder I fight, the harder he’ll fuck me.
More memories rip through me.
It’s time for you to leave. Now, you can take the trash out yourself, or I can take you out. You are nothing to me and never were. Nothing more than a warm hole to sink into every once in a while.
“I’ll fuck you into submission if I have to, so don’t tempt me because you know damn well I’ll do it.”
I stare at his grip, his grasp firm. Tightening. I’m burned by his touch.
He leans over me, his face hovering above mine. A shiver ripples through me at the sick, twisted look on his face.
“Please let me go!” I beg.
“No, but I do love it when you beg. I just wish you would save it for when my cock is inside you.”
The wires in my brain cross, and something inside me snaps. My vision goes black, and for one second, I’m no longer here, no longer held captive by my love for this toxic man. I break free of his hold and strike at him with the hand holding the broken glass shard. I recognize his pain-filled gasp a moment before I can comprehend what I’ve done.
Time slows down. There's a break in the foggy rage clouding my judgment, and that gives way to shock. He releases me entirely, pushing up onto his knees.
I look at my trembling hands, seeing the blood on them.
What have I done? I scramble back, like a crab, trying to get away.
I cut him. I cut him.
I’ve never hurt anyone in my life, and now I’ve cut him. I’ve drawn his blood.
Look what he turns you into. An animal. A woman out for revenge.
Bile climbs up my throat. I’m both gripped by fear and guilt. I can’t breathe. My lungs burn as I try to force air inside them. The glass presses against my palm, the weight of it heavier now.
What have I done?
I scramble to my feet, my legs threatening to give out. He’s going to kill me. I need to run. Something dangerous and dark electrifies the air, making it hard for me to breathe.