Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
He thrashes about, and I release him. “Never,” he forces out, as though he’s having to strain even to let his body say that.
He snatches his shoes off the floor, and I have to keep from chasing after him as he rushes for the door. When he opens it, I call out, “When will I see you again?”
He stops in place. “I don’t want to see you ever again,” he says without looking at me. He might as well have torn into my gut with a blade, and I feel a flash of panic before he adds, “But maybe next week.”
He rushes out, leaving me spinning from the intense fuck and that final confrontation—this part of Logan that can’t stand what he knows in his heart is true. What I learned is true from what we just shared.
He wants to submit as much as I want to dominate him. He craves it deep in his soul. Logan is a bright fire of rage, and I’m the black smoke that needs to consume him.
19
LOGAN
En route to Hayward, I avoid looking at the guys. Feels like I’m wearing what Killian did to me all over my face—stained it the way he stained my throat and belly that first time.
Once we arrive at the house, I rush to my room so my brothers won’t see me. I lock my door and scream, releasing all the tension knotted up inside me.
Why did he do that to me? Killian was supposed to be our friend, our ally, but now he’s using his beauty and charisma to play with my emotions and body.
And…oh fuck…when he played with my body…
I can still feel what it was like when he was swelling inside me as he came, see the look on his face when he lost control, just wanting to fill me with his seed. The filthy words he said, the way he spoke to me, echo in my head. “Admit you want to be dominated by me, Logan.” What it took to keep from saying it, from begging him to own me, like I wanted to be nothing more than his property, an object to be cherished by him.
This is his doing because I’ve never had a fucking thought like that in my entire life.
“Tell me you want me to come in your cunt. Tell me, or I won’t take you to the end.”
He called me a liar, but he lied too because he took me there even though I didn’t obey him.
I grab hold of my dresser and push it to the floor, the wood cracking as it hits.
What would Dad say if he knew what I did with Killian?
“You’re in charge of this family. That means you have to be a leader, which means you have to always be in control.”
I loved him, but I’m so mad he would tell me to marry Killian, then also tell me that I have to remain in control. How can I have both when the very thing that feels so exciting with him is that he wants control? And it’s so tempting to let him take that burden from me, to give him what he wants so I can have a moment of freedom from my responsibilities.
Assessing the mess I’ve made, I lean against the wall, closing my eyes, remembering what it felt like to have him dominating me, wishing that when he told me to submit, I could have betrayed my family and said those words. I fantasize about how it would have felt to tell him, whispering the words out loud, “I surrender. Dominate me, Killian. Do whatever the fuck you want to me.”
I thought saying them out loud might give me some peace, but they only make it worse, leave me with this ache inside.
And a part of me fears Dad’s ghost heard me, knows my deep desire, but what difference does that make? I know who I was born to be, and it never had anything to do with my own desires, otherwise I would be free from this family altogether. But I have a duty, and while I will do what I must with Killian, I could never give myself to him fully, as he wants.
Even if it kills me.
*
I thought a few days might give me some peace of mind, get Killian out of my head, but what we did… I’m learning that isn’t something I can pretend didn’t happen. No, Killian Lorde haunts me. Every word, every move he made, as though they were designed to be burned into my memory. More than that, knowing how he is about communicating with me, I’m constantly on edge, keeping my phone close in case he messages so he won’t barge in and start another fight.
Although, by the following Friday, I’m starting to wish he would.