Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
The last picture is of Romy’s tits. They’re covered in cum. That motherfucker got himself off on looking at and touching her unconscious body. He shot his load on her breasts while she slept.
I’m definitely going to kill him.
He went over and beyond to please our father.
Turning into a rage-filled beast as I turn all three of these men to a bloody pulp is unrealistic and stupid. They play a far more difficult game. And right now, they’re holding all the cards.
“She’s a very troubled girl,” Gideon explains. “If I had to guess, she’s just using your brother so she can kidnap your niece. It’s a miracle your father was able to rescue the child before Romy was able to make good on her intentions.”
Gideon is incredibly skilled at creating narratives for human consumption. He does it on a global scale with his media company, spoon-feeding the masses with his bites of news he’s carefully crafted. I’m not some stupid sheep who falls for it, though. These people have no idea how much I’ve absorbed, learned, and mastered over the past twelve years. I was a motherfucking sponge.
“I’m going to get Theo untangled from all this,” Dad says, “and we’ll get back to being the family we were before she came into our lives. You’ll learn to forgive your brother, especially now that you know her motives.”
Do they really expect me to believe this shit?
“It’s in your best interest, Son, to just forget about her.”
Forget about her.
Why?
I rub at my eyes, feeling the effects of having not slept much last night and running on adrenaline since. This is the first time I’ve sat down for more than five minutes. Alcohol on an empty stomach doesn’t help either.
What are their plans for Romy?
Is Gideon going to try to get his hands on her so he can “fix” her once and for all?
Yeah, that’s not going to happen.
Romy
It’s dark, but I feel his gaze boring into me. He’s gentle this time, slowly thrusting into my body. The tenderness he shows me does wonders to make me forget about how sore I am between my legs.
Is this how it’ll always be for us?
So intense?
I run my fingers through his hair, tugging him to my mouth. His lips ghost over mine and he murmurs praise that makes my heart sing. You’re so perfect, love. He thinks I’m perfect? I’ve been imperfect my entire life. Broken, mentally screwed up, an anxious mess.
But as he owns my body with his, I believe in his words.
His thrusting grows more ragged as he starts to lose control. Usually, he fingers my clit to bring me extra pleasure, but he’s lost to the sensation. It’s a turn-on. So much so, I don’t need the external stimulation. His feral need for me is an orgasm for my soul.
He lets out a string of curse words and then his cock is swelling like it does when he releases. Sometimes, he half-ass pulls out and spends onto my stomach. This time, he keeps fucking me, knowing he’s filling me with cum.
It’s reckless because I’m not on the pill or any sort of birth control.
Neither of us mentions it. I think, secretly, we both want the consequences to catch up with us because then this fake relationship will become real. We’ll be irrevocably connected until the day we die.
Does it make me stupid to pray for pregnancy?
Yes.
This life I’m entangled in is twisted. There are real villains who are screwing with people’s minds all around us. And I want to play with fire? Is there not enough danger already for me?
Stupid, reckless girl.
His body relaxes and he lets his weight crush me. I can barely breathe, but it’s worth it. Feeling his twitching cock inside of me as cum tries to escape from around it is satisfying.
I feel safe with him.
At one time, he terrified me. Now I’m terrified of not having him.
I wake with a moan.
Everything hurts.
Am I still in bed with Caius? Why does my head hurt so badly?
It’s not just my head.
Every muscle in my body screams in pain. I can’t move. When I try to, I’m met with more soreness and inability to move.
I blink my eyes in the pure, inky darkness, unable to make out shapes or figures. It reminds me of my time beneath the floor. Right before I’d first met Caius. What if I’m back there in that claustrophobic wooden coffin?
The attempt to clear my thoughts is futile. Without being able to see or move, I’m unable to ground myself. I don’t know what’s happening.
For some reason, my mind goes to Vivienne’s journal. Theo read it to me and I hated every second of it.
It all connects.
I know it.
I feel it in my bones.
If only I could grasp onto the truth and make sense of all the thoughts ping-ponging in my brain.