Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 189782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 759(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 189782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 759(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
The scent of damp earth fills my lungs as my feet pound the ground, my mind a bleeding mess of heartache and desperation.
The dock comes into view. One of the men on the security team stands at the entrance. He looks at me funny but doesn’t say anything. He only nods as I pass, recognizing the violence in my eyes.
I jump into the yacht and start the engine, the roar of the motor shattering the silence.
Water churns beneath the hull as I speed off into the Sitka Sound.
Richness and extravagance surround me in comfort. Polished exotic wood, stitched Italian leather, custom artwork, and handwoven carpets—all crafted by renowned interior designers.
The best that money can buy.
Yet I’ve never felt more alone.
None of it means a goddamn thing without her.
The wind whips through my hair, and the salty tang of the sea melds with the smell of diesel.
As the island fades into the distance, the dark expanse of the Sound stretches out before me. I push the yacht faster, slicing through the waves, but the speed and fresh air bring no pleasure.
My chest cracks with each crash of the bow against the water. Doesn’t matter how much distance I put between her and me, I can’t escape the pain.
As I steer into the night, it starts raining again. Pouring. The droplets hammer down, the darkness swallowing everything, leaving an expanse of sorrow and isolation.
I slow the yacht and pour a glass of the finest whiskey, but the burn does nothing to warm the cold ache. I turn on music to drown out my thoughts, but every note feels hollow. I pace the deck, the rain soaking my sweatpants, the wind lashing at me, but nothing eases the torment.
The image of my wife fucking two men invades my mind, a relentless torture hellbent on destroying me.
I’m consumed.
My bloody knuckles turn white as I squeeze my hands around imaginary necks, the rage transforming me into something unrecognizable.
With no one around, I stop the yacht and kill the engine.
Stepping out onto the deck in the pounding rain, I raise my face to the sky and scream into the storm. A primal, guttural sound tears from my throat. I scream until my voice goes raw, until the agony pulls my legs out from under me.
I drop to my knees, my cries echoing across the empty sea.
“Frankie.” My voice breaks, my body shaking, my sobs lost to the downpour.
The loneliness crushes me. I can’t breathe.
I miss her with every fiber of my being, the longing a physical pain that rips through me.
The night closes in, the darkness hovering like a reaper. I collapse, my strength gone, my spirit shattered, and reach for the only thing that can numb the pain.
I drink until I pass out.
11
Leonid
—
I wake in a heap of warm limbs and tangled sheets. Every muscle aches. My cock is sore. My head swirls with fuzz, and it takes a minute to remember where the fuck I am.
Beside me, Frankie is curled up on Kody’s chest. She’s so much smaller than him, like a child sleeping on a giant, hugging his bicep with both arms as he holds her in place.
And the legs entwined with mine? Yeah, those are his.
Better his legs than the fully erect limb between them.
I have no interest in going near that thing. Not purposefully. Not accidentally. Not even when it’s inside the hole I want to be in.
Last night, what we did together…I didn’t want it, fearing it would trigger my demons and resurface memories with Denver I don’t want to ever relive.
But it didn’t.
It was fucking incredible.
Do I have sexual thoughts about Kody? Fuck no. I’m not my father.
But the pressure of Kody’s fingers inside her while I fucked her? That was different. It was unreal. We were connected—the three of us—in a new way, and I loved every fucking second of it.
Doesn’t mean I want to rub dicks with him, but I wouldn’t mind a repeat of last night.
As if I said all that aloud, he cracks open an eye and aims it at me.
I roll out of bed. “Nice morning wood, Uncle Kody.”
“Don’t ever call me that.”
“Someone needs to make it uncomfortable since Wolf isn’t here.”
I feel like Wolf this morning—sarcastic, offensive, playful, and ready to fuck things up.
The temperature in the room finally dropped through the night. The desk still barricades the door, and my fiery little redhead is so full of come it’ll be leaking out of her for days.
I reach toward the heavens in a full-body, naked stretch, feeling like a goddamn stud. With a satisfied groan, I step outside through the open French doors and soak in the first light of dawn.
Floating toward the railing, I grip my cock.
“Leo,” Frankie says sleepily, “don’t you dare pee off that balcony.”
Busted.
I drop my hand. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”