Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
I let that go to my head a little. Because goddamn this man. He’s hot as fucking hell. That’s a fact. But if he tells me he’s only ever been with me, I might go off the deep end completely. I need to know. I need to know just how much his dark obsession burns for me. Because I don’t think I could ever let anyone else have him. He’s mine, already. But the words… the words make it real. Make it true.
I swirl my thumb over the head of his cock and squeeze, milking the moisture that’s already leaking out of him. His eyes are open now. Heavy and dark as they watch me taste him.
“Has anyone ever touched you like this before?” I ask.
His answer is a rough murmur.
“No.”
I wrap my hand around his thick base and give it a couple more pulls, making his balls draw up against his body.
“Has anyone else got to have you, Ronan?” I ask. “Have you ever fucked anyone the way you fuck me?”
The resulting jerk of his hips makes me think he secretly likes my filthy mouth.
“No,” he grunts. “Only you, Sasha.”
A torrid fever builds inside of me, charging my blood with manic possession. Jesus. I nearly come just thinking about it.
This man is the walking definition of masculinity. Virility. If his crew were a wolf pack, he'd be the strong and silent Alpha. And yet I'm the only one who’s ever touched this God among mortals. Me. A girl from the Dot with nothing to offer but my broken self.
“Good.” My voice is hoarse, drunk on the knowledge of my claim. “Because if you ever touch anyone else, I’ll murder them.”
His eyes snap to mine, dark and hot like melted chocolate. They reflect my own right now. The way that I feel. Only, Ronan takes it a step further when a small boyish grin cracks across his face. I’m pretty sure I hear angel’s singing, because holy shit that’s a beautiful sight. It doesn’t last long though, because as soon as I drag him back into my mouth, his head tips back and his eyes fall shut.
“Do you know what, Ronan?” I ask.
He’s having trouble concentrating with his cock in my hand. But I tell him anyway.
“You deserve to feel good. And the fact that you never have is a fucking tragedy. I'm going to rectify that. Here and now.”
His cock pulses in my palm, branding my skin with his heat as I suck him hard and deep, then soft and teasing.
“Tell me which way you like,” I urge.
He hesitates. So I keep talking.
“Do you like me on my knees for you?”
“Aye,” he answers in a husky voice. “Very much.”
“Show me what else you like, Ronan.”
He grabs the back of my head and surprises me when he thrusts up into my mouth roughly, the same way he did last night. Not only do I let him, but I get off on it. I reach down and cup his balls, and he makes another sound in his throat. God, I love the sound of Ronan coming undone for me.
He face fucks me with erratic thrusts, the head of his cock gnashing against my teeth and the back of my throat. This brand of roughness suits his personality. The way he dominates me. He takes me when he wants, without asking. Because Ronan can’t help himself. He’s starving for this. Has been starving for it for years. I see that now.
He pushes me all the way down on his cock and then explodes into my mouth. He isn’t polite and doesn’t ask if I want to swallow. He’s an animal. So unpolished and not at all suave. But he’s mine. My caveman.
When he pulls away though, uncertainty creeps across his face. The wheels are turning in his head again. Wondering. Thinking. Worrying. I won’t let him get locked inside those thoughts. Those thoughts keep him away from me.
So I smile up at him and tuck him into his pants before zipping him back up. And then I move up and sit beside him on the bed, brushing my leg against his.
“So,” I say lightly. “What are we going to do today, kidnapper?”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ronan
When I spot the church on the hillside in the distance, a weak sound tears from my chest. It must be a sign. A sign that I am to stop running and bear punishment for what I have done. Alex spoke of this place. He told me how much he liked coming to the church. How they would help people. He told me it didn’t matter what you had done, they would help you.
I hope they will help me too.
I’ve been running for days around this countryside. Weak with hunger and sick from drinking out of dirty puddles. I thought I could find someone to help me. That there was a life that still existed beyond the compound, like Alex talked about.