Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
It’s what made me who I am.
That’s probably also the reason I have deviant tastes and a thirst for sexual violence.
Which is why I’ve kept it under wraps.
Being celibate for months on end was easier than indulging in mind-numbing, soul-crushing vanilla fucking.
Trying to restrain myself was a painstaking task I preferred not to undergo. What the girls meant by ‘harder’ misaligned with my understanding of the word.
They meant deeper in a way that heightened their pleasure but didn’t hurt them.
While for me, my flavor of sexual deviance was complete fucking control with a touch of pain.
A dash of sadism.
A sprinkle of tears.
It truly turns me on to see the woman I’m fucking enjoying the pain as much as the pleasure.
Dahlia is the only girl who takes my raw, depraved sexual dominance. And the best part? She gets off on it.
She comes harder when the pain and pleasure blend together until she can’t breathe.
The only hiccup is that she’s also terrified of it. I saw it in her eyes earlier today when I invited her over.
There was fear.
But there was also a tinge of anticipation—I’m counting on that part to bring her to my door.
The room is draped in thick, still silence as I lean against the wall. The town’s lowlights slice through the darkness in jagged lines, catching the edge of the glass but never reaching me.
My pulse is steady, but underneath it, there’s something darker, coiled tight, ready to snap. My index finger twitches and I force it back to stillness.
I’ve never been eager.
Never coveted something enough to break my rules for it.
I’ve even erased any semblance of emotion.
And yet I can’t control the flexing of my muscles or the blood rushing to my groin.
I’m hard just thinking about what I’ll do to her.
How I’ll trap her.
Consume her.
Leave her no way out.
Deep inside, I know I shouldn’t get involved any further with Dahlia Thorne, but fuck if my dick can understand logic. He’s been restrained for months on end, and now that I’ve stumbled onto his favorite flavor, there’s no stopping him.
The door clicks open.
I stand to my full height but don’t change position.
She came.
A part of me thought she’d ghost me and shun this unorthodox agreement. But I should’ve known.
Dahlia’s animal is a mirror of mine.
I can smell her before seeing her. The softest scent of jasmine carries in the air and seeps into my nostrils.
“Hello?”
I remain one with the shadows, my breathing muted and my presence concealed, but my attention is zoned in on the merest stutter in her breath, the pause in her steps, and each rustle of her clothes.
“Kane?” Her voice is slightly spooked, on edge, and has a faint tremor she’s trying hard to conceal. “This isn’t funny.”
I smile to myself.
That’s it. Come closer, my little prey.
“Where the hell are the lights in this place?” she grumbles, her shoes shuffling on the floor.
Concealed.
They usually go on automatically, but I disabled that option, so unless I turn them back on, we’re bathed in my natural habitat.
Darkness.
The city lights flash outside, but it’s all static—meaningless. The real storm is sharpening and coiling inside me.
Dahlia’s feet come to a halt a short distance away as if she can feel my presence.
“Kane?” Her low whisper is heightened by the brutal silence.
“I’ll count to three and then I’ll chase you,” I speak in a deep voice.
“What happened to hello?” she asks in a bravado tone, but she’s already shuffling backward. “Can’t you do normal for once, asshole?”
“You don’t like normal, wildflower. It bores you to tears. One.”
A swallow—or, more accurately, a gulp—echoes in the air as she searches the darkness. When she speaks, there’s a tense energy in her voice, caught between dread and anticipation. “What will you do when you catch me?”
“I’ll fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk. I’ll own every inch of you, and your cunt will remember my cock for days. Two.”
“Oh God.” A few more frantic steps. “Wait. Let me mentally prepare myself. Count to ten—”
“Your time is up. Three.”
She shrieks as I pounce from my hiding space. Her eyes widen for the briefest second, the light from outside breaking and highlighting those hazel gates of my nightmarish chaos.
It’s only a moment in time, but she’s smart enough to realize being immobile is the surest way to end up beneath my claws. Dahlia sprints in the opposite direction, mindlessly hitting the edge of the sofa and cursing.
That doesn’t stop her, though. She’s a fighter, my wildflower, and a cunning survivor, and soon picks up her speed.
My pace is steady and slow as I toy with her, reveling in her every frenzied move, every agitated breath expelling from her lungs.
The scent of her smothers me. The sound of her fear-laced gasps makes my cock twitch and tent against my pants.
She rushes to the kitchen area, her shadow large and magnified on the opposite wall.