Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
“Hit me,” he orders. I’m hesitant, but he bites my bottom lip, dragging with his teeth. When he releases my lip, he growls, “I like it rough. Now, fucking hit me.” He bites my lip again, harsher this time, and I swear I taste blood. I react, slapping him across the face. A deadly smirk appears as he shoves me forcefully onto his cock.
“Fucking perfect.” He groans as I gasp, trying to adjust to his size. Then he starts moving, and I forget about everything and anything we ever fought about. I can only feel us in this moment. This thing that I’ve begged for and cried over for months now. It’s in the palms of my hands, where it should always be.
“Go on, Chaos, scar me with those fucking perfect nails.” I hold on to him as he pulls our bodies flush with each other and moves me like he’s done so many times before.
But this time, it’s desperate. Unhinged.
Shaking me at my core as we hate, kiss, and torture one another after months of deprivation and frustration.
But why does it feel so good?
I dig my nails into his back, breaking his skin and carving it with my nails. And I know that he fucking loves it. And it’s never felt more right.
“Tell me you missed me,” he pleads.
I can feel myself about to come already. He thrusts in harder, and as I start to cry out, he kisses me again. We’re biting, sucking, and marking as he rips his lips from mine. “Say it!” he demands, gripping my ass painfully tight.
“I-I missed you.” I pant out the confession. I can’t help it. It’s true. And he knows it. I come, and he follows right behind me, jerking inside me, kissing me gently through the aftershocks as if he can’t get enough. He strokes my hair from my face, his tongue dominating mine, as I melt into him, overstimulated by the harshness of his claiming and the gentleness of his kiss.
A kiss that I always had to ask for.
Always demanding that he give me more.
And now he’s giving it to me when we’ve already decided we’re done.
I’m shaking and panting as I shove him, reality setting in that everyone is literally a room over from us. Fuck. We’re out of our goddamn minds. I try to unwrap my legs, but he grips me to him.
“Come home with me tonight.”
“No,” I tell him as my feet touch the floor. Fixing my dress, I don’t even bother looking at him as I open the door and slip out. I need to run away from this situation because I just betrayed my own resolve.
“Ummm.” I startle at the sound of Jewel’s voice. “Did you find the vanilla extract?”
Just then, the pantry door opens, and Ford steps out, doing his pants up with one hand and holding a bottle of vanilla extract in the other.
“Got it.”
Jewel bites her bottom lip, nods once, then leaves. There’s no fucking way she doesn’t know. We’re so bad at this. We might be addicted to lying and sneaking around, but the bigger this secret is, the worse we become at hiding it.
I turn back to find him staring at me as if he’s bracing for what I’m about to say or do. His cheek is a stark red from where I slapped it, and a part of me feels a little guilty. That is until the voice of my brother rings out through the house. Both of our gazes snap in the direction of the door.
“He can know,” Ford says.
“Know what?” Dutton asks as he pushes through the door.
I school my features, giving him a fake smile as I lean up to give him a hug.
“I ended things with Matthew,” I tell him. He releases me and meets my eyes.
“Good.” He nods to Ford and then notices the handprint on his cheek.
He looks between us. “Why do you have a handprint on your face?”
“I slapped him because he slept with one of my friends.” I lie with such ease that I almost believe it myself.
“Oh,” Dutton says, and I’m not sure if he’s taking the bait. “It’s not Ivy, is it?”
“Ew,” Ford and I both say at the same time. And I know she would share the sentiment. “No, a college friend.”
Ford’s clenching his jaw, probably pissed that I’ve lied yet again. But what does he expect me to do in a roomful of knives, which just so happen to be my brothers’ favorite weapon?
“Is Posie with you?” I ask Dutton as he reaches into the fridge and pulls out a bottle of water.
“No, she’s working, and said under no circumstances am I to interrupt her,” he grumbles. I follow behind him when he leaves the kitchen, not wanting to be left in the same room with Ford again because look what just happened even though I told myself it would never happen again.