Tears Like Acid (Corsican Crime Lord #3) Read Online Charmaine Pauls

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Crime, Dark, Mafia, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Corsican Crime Lord Series by Charmaine Pauls
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Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
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I don’t know why the way my wife phrases that irks me so much. Heidi shoots me an accusing look, making her opinion on the matter known as if she hasn’t already told me multiple times.

“Can I have one for Christmas?” Sophie asks.

“That’s a discussion for later,” I say in a sterner tone. “Finish your food.”

Sophie heaves a sigh. “All right.” Swinging her legs, she says, “You won’t forget, Angelo?”

“No. I promise.”

Shoving a fork-full of potatoes in her mouth, she says, “Okay.”

Heidi brought chocolate mousse for dessert, which wins her more points with Sophie. When we’ve finished dinner, Heidi offers to tidy the kitchen while Sabella and I tuck Sophie in.

“Are you sleeping in your own house again?” Sophie asks when I kiss her forehead.

“Yes. I still have work to do.” I look at Sabella as I say, “I’ll be here at sunrise tomorrow. We have an early flight to catch.”

After saying goodnight, I close the door and follow my wife down the hallway. She enters her bedroom without looking at me. It wasn’t my plan to go inside, but her defiance sets my teeth on edge. She’s ignored me for long enough. Sadly for her, pretending I don’t exist isn’t going to make me disappear.

She gives a start at the click of the door when I close it behind me. She spins around, facing me quietly. When I turn the key in the lock, her gaze homes in on the action.

She doesn’t run or cower when I cross the floor. She pulls her sweater over her head and reaches behind her to unclip her bra. Then she kicks off her sneakers and shimmies out of her jeans, socks, and panties.

I’m riveted to the spot, watching her naked body as she goes down on her knees and spreads her legs. Lifting her chin, she meets my gaze head-on, not cowering under the heat that must burn in my eyes as a dead giveaway of the lust firing through my veins.

I’m hard in a second flat. In the back of my mind, I’m aware of the fact that my niece is sleeping at the end of the hallway. But Heidi is here to take care of her if she wakes up or asks for a glass of water. I haven’t had Sabella in too long. It’s only been what? A day? Two? It feels like a fucking month.

I strip off my clothes. I’m naked before I stop in front of her. My hand is in her hair and my cock in her mouth before she has time to gasp. I’m using her, muffling her sounds with my dick shoved down her throat, but that’s not how I want her.

I rip my cock from her lips and slam a hand over her mouth as I yank her up by her arm. She doesn’t protest as I march her to the bathroom. I close the door and turn the water on in the shower to drown out any noise we may make, but I don’t even make it to the point where the water runs strongly. I lock my hands around her waist and lift her onto the vanity. Bottles fall over and tubes roll off the edge.

Stepping between her legs, I grab the base of my cock and position the head at her slit. I watch as I slowly part and finally stretch her until her pussy has swallowed my length. When I thrust, I study her face. She’s so fucking beautiful, so perfect when she closes her eyes and bites her lip. She’s preventing me from seeing her pleasure and hearing her sounds, withholding those expressions like she’s refusing to say my name. So, I fuck her harder. I yank her ass to the edge of the counter and slam into her with enough force for her eyes to fly open and her breath to catch on a hitch.

“Say it,” I demand, sliding my cock over and over into her slick pussy.

She moans, but she doesn’t give me words.

Locking one hand on her hip, I wrap the other around her neck. “Say it.”

She refuses, even when I squeeze. Even when I pivot my hips faster.

A trickle of sweat rolls over my temple. “Say it, damn you.”

Her eyes go out of focus either from the lack of oxygen or from my rough fucking—maybe from both—and still, she refuses me. Her denial twists me up inside. Because I recall a time when she laid her hand on my cheek and whispered my name in her moment of pleasure. Because I lied when I said I didn’t care. Because I want that again so badly it aches with a physical pain in my chest. But just like she’d rather suffocate than say it, I’d sooner die than admit it.

All I can do is steal her ability to speak by crashing our mouths together. By taking away her speech, I pretend that I’m in control. I pretend I’m the one not giving her a choice.


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