Yours Cruelly (Paper Cuts #2) Read Online Winter Renshaw

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Drama Tags Authors: Series: Paper Cuts Series by Winter Renshaw
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Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
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Those words coming from that mouth is enough to suck the air from my lungs.

I was his crush?

I thought our dynamics were more along the lines of a cat torturing a mouse for the sheer enjoyment of it. He was a hot jock and I was a nerd. Had I been another guy, he’d have surely shoved me into a locker or given me a swirly. How could I have ever guessed in a billion years that he was crushing on me?

We’re mere inches apart now, his eyes scanning my every feature as if determining which part of me he wants to sample first.

Reaching out, he brushes a strand of hair from my shoulder, which sends an electric spray of goose bumps down the side of my neck.

“What are we doing?” He traces his fingers up my cheek, and every atom in my body stands at attention.

The fatigue settling into my icy bones earlier has now dissipated.

The fading warmth of his fingertips lingers long after it abandons my skin, like each one of them is branding me forever, and his emerald eyes are ablaze as his mouth moves nearer to mine.

Oh my god … this is happening.

And the worst part is—I want it to.

I’m almost positive I willed this into existence because it’s all I could think about from the minute I laid eyes on him from the backseat of my Uber.

His full mouth presses flat before it reaches mine, and I can tell something is warring inside him.

“Your brothers,” he begins, “if they had any idea you were here with me right now, if they had any idea the things I want to do to you …”

He leans closer, so close that there’s no way to mistake his intention. And then he hovers there, giving me a second to say no, that I don’t want it, but I’m so consumed by this moment anything I could possibly think or say is stuck in my tongue-tied mouth.

Without another word, Alec closes the distance between us, crushing my lips with his. My body melts into his as he grabs my waist and pulls me against him. I’m powerless. A rag dolls. A mess of jumbled thoughts and emotions that make perfect sense and no sense at the same time.

Light and heat ignite all over my body. His mouth is soft, inviting, but his kisses are anything but. Tangling his hands in my hair, he tips my head back further and commands my kisses, no hesitation at all. I try to gasp, but he catches it and holds me still for his onslaught.

My entire body quakes.

Our eyes hold and he claims my lips on his terms—harder, unrelenting, and unapologetic.

My body responds by becoming even more liquescent against his, and he steers us closer to the mattress.

We fall down in a heap of fevered kisses and greedy, roaming hands.

Hiking my dress up, I straddle him. He sits forward and lets me pull off his t-shirt. That tattoo is bared to me—a caduceus, of course, with a little heart. I feast my gaze on his strong torso, settling at the V of his waist, a dark treasure trove that disappears under his waistband. I’ve never wanted to taste anything as badly as I want to taste him.

Alec grips the hem of my dress, lifting the entire thing over my head as I shake out my hair, unclasp my bra, and cast it aside. It lands on a cardboard box somewhere in the dark depths of the space that envelops us.

He cups my breasts, each of them fitting generously in his palms. “Jesus, Stassi.”

I pull myself against his bare chest, warm skin against warm skin, and he groans, low in his throat.

My thoughts exactly.

His hardness presses through his dress slacks, grazing my core, emboldening me. Grinding into him, I run my hands down his chest. He retaliates by thrusting his tongue inside my mouth.

Once upon a time, we warred with words and silence.

Tonight, however, our bodies are doing all the talking.

His deft hands glide down my sides as he makes his way to my ass, grabbing a generous handful before slipping his fingers under the lace edges of my panties.

I open my mouth to moan in anticipation, but it all gets lost when he slips a finger inside me.

A shuddery breath escapes my lips.

I can’t remember the last time I had a man inside me, but this isn’t exactly the comeback I could have ever predicted.

“I can really feel how much you hate me,” he says into my ear, his voice cocky and teasing.

If you’d asked me yesterday how I felt about Alec, I’d have said without a doubt he’s my least favorite person to ever exist on this planet (after Hitler and Genghis Khan and the like, of course).

But if you asked me right now? I’d probably mutter something nonsensical because this man has the Midas Touch and my body is betraying every hate-filled thought I’ve ever held about this man.


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