Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
"Sit, Scarletta."
Her knees bend. She lowers herself onto my lap—awkward at first, hesitant, like she doesn't trust this. Doesn't trust me.
But she sits anyway.
I wrap my arms around her immediately. Pull her close against my chest. One hand slides up into that platinum hair—so soft, so perfect—while the other settles at the small of her back.
"There you go," I breathe against her temple. "Good girl. Such a good little slut."
She breaks.
The sob that tears out of her is raw and desperate and everything I've been waiting for. She buries her face against my shoulder and cries—really cries—while I hold her, and stroke her hair, and tell her how good she is.
"I've got you," I whisper. "Right here. I've got you."
Her whole body shakes with it. Seven months of holding it together, seven months of pretending she's fine, seven months of running—all of it comes pouring out while I sit there and let her fall apart in my arms.
"Shhhh," I soothe, fingers threading through her hair. "You're okay. You're safe."
She's not safe. Not even close. But she needs to hear it anyway.
I rock her slightly. Back and forth. Gentle motion while my hand strokes down her spine, over the curve of her lower back, then up again. Repetitive. Calming. The way you'd comfort a frightened animal.
"So beautiful," I murmur against her hair. "So fucking perfect."
Her crying starts to slow. The sobs become quieter, more controlled. She's getting herself together again—rebuilding those walls brick by brick.
I won't let her.
"One last time," I say softly. "And then I'm gone. I promise."
She pulls back enough to look at me. Her eyes are red, nose running. She's a mess.
She's gorgeous.
"You promise?" Her voice cracks on the words.
"I promise." I stroke her cheek with my thumb, wiping away tears. "One last time, and then I walk away. I won't come back until you come to me."
She searches my face. Looking for the lie. Looking for the trap.
She won't find it.
Because this time—this one fucking time—I'm telling the truth.
If we're going to be together forever… it has to be her choice.
"This time," I say quietly, holding her gaze, "I will not waver. I'll walk out that door, and I won't come back. Not to your apartment. Not to the gym. Not to the coffee shop." I brush my thumb across her bottom lip. "If you don't come to me, we will never see each other again. I promise."
She wants to believe me. I can see it in her eyes—the desperate, fragile hope that maybe this time I'm actually telling the truth.
I am.
For once in my twisted, fucked-up life, I'm actually telling the truth.
"Okay," she whispers.
I grip her hips—both hands now, firm and claiming—and lift her. She gasps, instinctively wrapping her arms around my neck as I position her directly over my cock.
The towel falls away.
She's naked in my lap. Wet from the shower. Warm, and soft, and everything I've been craving for seven months.
I lower her slowly.
The head of my cock presses against her entrance. She's already wet—so fucking wet—and I slide in easily. Inch by inch. Stretching her. Filling her.
Her head falls back, mouth opening on a silent moan as I sink deeper.
"That's it," I breathe. "Take it, baby. Take every inch."
She does. Her pussy swallows my cock completely until I'm buried to the hilt, her thighs trembling where they bracket my hips.
I hold her there. Don't move. Just let her feel it—the fullness, the stretch, the way we fit together like we were made for this.
"Fuck," she whimpers.
"One last time," I remind her. My hands tighten on her hips. "Let's make it count."
I stand, gripping her ass with both hands, cock still buried deep. She gasps, wrapping her legs around my waist as I turn and slam her back against the wall.
"Fuck!" she cries out.
The impact drives me deeper. Her pussy clenches around my shaft, and I grind against her, pinning her there with my hips.
"You feel that?" I growl against her ear. "Feel how fucking deep I am? How your pussy is stretched around my cock like it was made for me?"
She moans, head falling back against the wall. Eyes closed. Mouth open. Completely lost in it.
I pull out almost completely, then slam back in.
"Yes!" Her nails dig into my shoulders.
I do it again. Harder. The wet sound of our bodies connecting echoes off the high ceilings.
"This is what you need, isn't it?" I pant, fucking up into her with brutal thrusts. "Not Ryan's mediocre bullshit. Not some vanilla boyfriend who'll treat you like you're normal. You need this. You need me."
"Oh god—"
"Say it." I bite her neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. "Tell me what you are."
"Your—fuck—your slut—"
"Good little slut," I correct, punctuating each word with a thrust. "Mine. All mine. This pussy belongs to me. Always has. Always will."
She's bouncing on my cock now, using the wall for leverage, riding me with desperate need. Her tits bounce with every thrust, nipples hard, and pink, and perfect.