Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 58045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
With my body cold, my anger coiled and every emotion running on high, I grit my teeth and give her the harsh command, “Get on your knees now.”
Shock lights in her deep brown eyes and she’s quick to move, her dark disheveled locks spilling over her shoulder. Not a bit of her touches me as she assumes the position. Her knees are spread the width of her shoulders, with her back perfectly arched the way I crave, so I can fuck her deeply. The groan of the bed matches the one of desire that runs through my chest as I climb off and then grab her ankles, moving her to the edge of the mattress. She gives the smallest of yelps at the sudden movement. Her initial instinct to grab hold of the sheets soon gives way to her obedience. With my feet on the floor, and her ass at the perfect height, I let my fingers trail down her slit. She’s not ready for me, so I’ll take my time.
With my fingers toying with her clit, I give myself the time I need as well.
A gentle moan of pleasure leaves her as her head falls slightly. My left hand splays on her hip, holding her there as a gentle reminder.
This is the deal. She’s mine. Mine to do whatever I want with.
The possessiveness that runs deep in my blood heats as I lean forward, gripping her ass and feeling her cunt tighten as I do. The mix of pain and pleasure finally give her what she needs to submit to me.
Dragging my fingers up her back, I grip her nape with my left hand as I spread her arousal with the opposite hand. “That’s better, my good sweet girl.”
She rocks back gently and I’m quick to reprimand her, fisting her hair at the base of her neck and pulling slightly, which forces her back to arch. She’s fucking gorgeous like this, at my mercy and weak for me. Waiting on me. Trusting me.
I love her like this.
No. My heart beats once, heavy and exacting. I love her. I won’t let them take her from me.
As I line up the head of my cock at her entrance, I lower my lips to her neck, nipping once and loving the chills that run along her skin. At the sensitive spot there, knowing my warm breath will cause her to shudder, I whisper, “I would kill for you. I would kill anyone for you.”
It’s not just a promise. I will kill for her. I will do whatever I have to for her.
It’s only a fraction of a moment that passes before what I’ve said hits her and the realization reflects in her body language. With that I thrust inside of her deeply, all the way to the hilt and I take her savagely, fueled by her tortured cries of pleasure, reminding her exactly who she belongs to.
Declan
They say we’re brutal for this very reason.
“If he doesn’t make the payment …” my brother Carter states and his knuckles tap on the hardwood maple desk in a rhythmic way. The pace is even, as is Jase’s head when he nods, agreeing with the unspoken consensus. “ …let’s make it very public,” Carter concludes, stressing the word very.
“Very,” Jase repeats with a glint of a smile. As if it’s comical to murder someone in a manner that’s worthy of making the six o’clock news.
There’s a sinking feeling in my gut, paired with a heat that dances along the back of my neck but I nod as well. This is what happens when someone screws us over. They’re made into an example, and lately the examples have been adding up.
Anytime there are shifts in power, we’re bound to encounter challenges. They start off with small pushes against firm boundaries. We’d be naïve to think our enemies aren’t constantly checking for cracks and tampering with well-defined barriers. If you let someone get away with one thing, they’ll know they can get away with more.
“If he’s even an hour late,” Carter says, then gestures and Jase nods once again, this time adding, “Agreed.”
My gaze moves from Jase’s freshly shaven hard jawline to the bags under Carter’s eyes. The recent arrival of Carter’s firstborn, my nephew, has caused a stirring of betrayals.
My mother used to say, “Family will be the death of me.” I don’t remember much of her. She passed away when I was a kid, leaving the five of us behind, but I can hear her saying those words now. Her voice dripping with sarcasm as she rolled her eyes and tackled a never-ending cycle of dirty dishes and laundry.
There are only four of us now, and there’s no doubt in my mind she would mourn for the men we’ve become.
Family may be the death of me, but they’re all I have and I would give my life for them.