Ugly (Cerberus MC #26) Read Online Marie James

Categories Genre: Biker, Erotic, MC, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Cerberus MC Series by Marie James
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Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
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Her mouth opens, moans and whimpers escaping, and I can tell she’s trying not to make too much noise but finding it impossible. I like that she’s enjoying it so much she’s having a hard time controlling herself.

“Swear to God, Lennox, if you don’t fucking come.” Her hands break free from the sheet, and I realize I’ll just have to punish her later because she needs the release as much as I do.

Her hand skates between her legs, her fingers brushing my balls, and I swear I get a spasm in my damn eye.

My fingers grip her hips, slipping some on the parts she didn’t manage to dry during her little snit of irritation. I dig in deeper, wondering if she’ll get bruises and if she’ll have the same reaction to those that were already marking her skin that I saw in her eyes when I made her watch me touch her in the mirror last night.

“Fuck, Lennox.”

The growl is more praise than anything because her orgasm takes control of both of us, that clench utter perfection.

I wrap an arm around her, my hand finding her breast.

“Sawyer,” she pants, her body jolting more from my repetitive intrusion now that she’s relaxing.

I explode, my cock pulsing so hard it challenges the erratic beat of my heart.

I pull back, stumbling a few steps before falling to the bed beside her.

As sweat cools on my skin, I pray that I did the right thing.

Chapter 35

Lennox

My heart is racing, the pounding echoing in my ears, and I just want to get lost in it. I want to feel nothing, think nothing. I want bliss to carry me away and leave me in this exact moment for the rest of my time on earth.

It can’t.

It doesn’t.

I was a fool to think it would last longer than a couple of minutes.

The sweat on my skin isn’t even dry before the memories resurface, before the pain and loss and regret start to take back over.

Out of sight out of mind is complete bullshit. The memories and trauma always last longer than the initial experience.

I turn my head in Sawyer’s direction, watching his chest rise and fall with breaths heavy from exertion and his own release.

The man gave me exactly what I wanted, the ability to willingly hand my power over to someone. I trust him enough to do that, but I can’t help but feel like it’s offered out of obligation or regret somehow.

I wanted him to fix me, to mend that broken part inside of me that for some reason feels guilty that I survived Joey Dixon when so many women didn’t.

Sex with Sawyer was simply a distraction, and the logical part of my brain knows it’s too soon. The bruises Dixon left behind haven’t even started to fade or turn yellow. It’s foolish to think I can go to sleep and wake up a different person, but it doesn’t make me wish for it any less.

I pull my eyes from him, trying to shove back down a rush of questions I have no business asking as I stand from the bed. I can feel his eyes on me, but he doesn’t say a word as I walk to the bathroom.

On instinct, I lock the door, needing it to be a sign as well as wanting the minimal protection the lock provides.

I swallow bile with the thought of being in my own home and Joey Dixon right there. I locked the door then too. I’ve done it every time I’ve bathed since I was a young girl, and the habit has always stuck with me. There’s no way to know why he waited in my closet for me to finish rather than coming after me when I was most vulnerable. It’s possible he wanted to strip that power from me as he pulled off my clothes.

I shake my head again, hating that my mind insists on focusing on the pain rather than the good things I have in life. I still get to keep my job although I know I won’t be returning to active duty any time soon. The man in the room on the other side of the door is capable of giving my body what it needs, and he doesn’t seem overly pushy at all.

Lots of people don’t have a sister or parents. They do just fine.

I clear my throat as I step into the shower, turning the water on and letting that first frigid blast hit me right in the face. If there was a way to speed past all this regret and pain, the millions of questions I have, so many I know will still go unanswered, I’d sign up for it in a heartbeat. Hell, if I could just not feel a damn thing for a year, that would be awesome as well.


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