Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Mine.
What the fuck?
I rake a hand through my hair before turning away from my reflection and switching on the shower. I should have done as I promised and taken her ass. She wouldn’t hold on to me then, I am sure. I couldn’t though. The look in her eyes, the scent of her, the promise of virgin blood, it was too much. Too irresistible.
And I didn’t want to hurt her. As tight as she is, I’d have split her in two if I’d taken her ass. She’ll need to be prepared to take me there because as much as I hate to admit it, I wanted to watch her come undone. I wanted her to cling to me. To want me.
To want me.
Fuck.
I don’t fucking understand.
The road to hell is paved with good intentions. That’s the expression, right? I just need to remember that to allow her pleasure, to make her come, doesn’t make me any less of what I am.
The beast pillaging the virgin half his size.
I swipe my finger over her blood drying on my dick, my thighs and bring it to my mouth. I lick it off. Sick. I know. But there should be no doubt that I am that beast.
Water runs pink down the drain washing away her blood. The dark thing inside me likes the look of it, one word repeating over and over in my head.
Mine.
I’ve had a lot of women, but not one of them was a virgin. Well, apart from my first. We were kids then, both of us sixteen. I didn’t know what I was doing. Tonight, what I did, I did fully aware.
It doesn’t mean anything, I tell myself, turning my face up to the flow of water. It’s just bodies. Just fucking. Virgin or not, pussy is pussy. That’s all. That’s all it’s been for me for a very long time.
But kissing her. Fuck. Kissing her. I couldn’t stop, even when she bit me. I couldn’t stop kissing her and to think of it now makes me want it again.
I switch off the shower and grab a towel, wiping water from my face and hair. The mirror has fogged so I don’t have to look at myself. Wrapping the towel low over my hips, I return to the bedroom to find Blue sitting up in the bed. She’s hugging her knees and although the blanket is pulled tight around her, she’s shivering. Her hair is wild, her lips are swollen, her eyes a little lost. A lot accusing.
Guilt gnaws at me, twists something inside me. I’m about to ask her if she’s all right, but my cell phone rings from inside my jacket pocket, and I cross the room to pick it up. When I see it’s Jericho, I answer.
“Yeah,” I say. I feel her eyes on me as I walk out of the room.
“Where are you?”
“At the house.”
“The girl?”
“Here too. Where would she be?”
“We’re coming over.”
“Why?”
“She needs to answer some questions.”
“What questions?”
“I’ll tell you when we get there.”
“I need half an hour.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Fine.”
This seems to be how conversations with my brother go these days.
I disconnect and walk down the hall into the bedroom where Cynthia unpacked some of my things that Jericho had sent over. I pull on a pair of jeans, a light V-neck sweater, socks and shoes. I comb my hair and bring my hands to my nose. Her scent lingers there. It’s faint, but it’s there. At least I think I’m not imagining it.
Jesus. What the fuck is wrong with me?
There’s a bathtub in this room. I’ll wash her. Make sure she’s all right. The bathroom in Blue’s room only has the shower stall. I run a bath, testing the temperature, and plugging the tub. As it fills up, I walk back out into the hallway and see Blue’s ruined clothes on the floor, that tote bag on its side. I pick up the tote, her underthings, the ruined dress. When I do, though, something falls out of her pocket. I stop, look at it. It’s a rolled-up wad of cash that’s been rubber-banded together.
What the fuck? I bend to pick it up, take off the rubber band. At a quick glance, there’s another grand, maybe two here.
That guilt of moments ago evaporates. I stalk into the bedroom where Blue hasn’t moved. Granted, she can’t. But that’s what you get when you try to run.
“What the fuck is this?” I ask, holding up the money.
She looks at it, her mouth falling open.
“Where did you get this, Blue?”
“I’m really cold. And I need to use the bathroom,” she says, trying to sound defiant but I see how her lower lip is trembling, how her eyes are filling up, the skin around them already pink. She is at my mercy. She is more mine than she can possibly understand. That twisting in my gut is back at the sight of her like this.