Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
I fall to my knees when she’s revealed, her body motionless on the floor of the van.
“Claire, please don’t be dead. Claire!” I bellow, irrationally, climbing into the vehicle to feel her face. Touch her delicate features, relieving to find them warm. Relieved there is color in her cheeks. And when she rouses, one eye opening, followed by the other, blinking up at me drowsily and whispering my name, I come undone with gratitude, picking her up into my arms and rocking while I wail thank you up at the heavens, my life restored.
My wife.
My wife is alive.
“Are you hurt, Claire?” I beg to know, shaking.
“Just tired,” she murmurs.
I swallow the bolts in my throat. “Did either of them touch you? Did they touch you?”
“No.” Her smile is drowsy. Sweet. I don’t deserve it. “My hero came in time.”
I release an agonized sound and bury my face in her hair. “I’ll never let you out of my sight again. I promise. Not for a fucking minute.”
“Maine,” she whispers, tracing my earlobe with limp fingers.
“Maine,” I agree thickly, carrying her out of the garage in my arms and putting her into my BMW. We drive northeast and never look back.
Epilogue
Claire
Five Years Later
We never figured out how or why I taste so dang good, both my mouth and my sex.
But there ended up being a twist.
Every time my mouth is kissed by my husband, it tastes a little sweeter next time. If Draven comes in my mouth, which he does frequently and at my fervent request, the flavor profile increases in potency twofold. And, you guessed it, every time Draven makes love to me, the taste between my legs gets even more succulent.
My gift has been great for our restaurant, Ambrosia Girl, a sprawling, French-infusion restaurant perched on a clifftop in Maine.
If only we could stop making love long enough to run the place.
We’ve barely finished prepping the kitchen for the day and Draven has me outside, backed up against the side of the restaurant, my skirt jerked up around my hips as he fucks me like an animal, the loud waves crashing at the base of the cliff doing nothing to drown out gratified moans.
“Customers are going to arrive any second,” I hiccup, my back raking up and down the wall, his thickness filling me in deep, savage strokes, one after the other, his hips driving up, up, up.
“They can wait while I bang my little girl,” he grunts, his eyes eclipsed with the black of his pupils. And he zeroes in on my mouth, kissing me with a deep lick of his tongue, his breath hitching in disbelief at the taste, his chest heaving up and down dramatically. “Oh Jesus, it gets better every day. Every fucking day. Eventually you will kill me.”
“Don’t say that,” I gasp, my back teeth clenched to keep them from clacking together.
“I would die happy, though, just like this,” he says, the pitch of his voice deepening. Darkening. His thrusts turning aggressive. “Buried in this million-dollar cunt with that mouth ripe for tasting. Goddammit, does my wife keep me fed.”
I can’t respond, because I’m being thrown down on the grassy cliff and brutalized in the most welcome of ways, my thighs open for his sweet violence. I have no air to breathe because his hand is choking it off and this…this is when my clit begins to tingle and throb, his wet shaft riding so deliciously over the sensitive nub, Daddy’s hips rifling between my legs, his eyes looking down on me with a demand to endure the pain that comes right before the pleasure breaks—and I do. I feel the tremble in my tummy. The obscene tickle.
A pooling of wetness where our bodies are locked in a rough fuck.
My consciousness begins to sparkle at the edges, and looking up at the overcast sky, I think of our life. How perfect every day has been since we ran away from Tartine and left the fear, the guilt, the past behind. How the truth about Draven’s mother truly set him free, once and for all, along with the imprisonment of his brother.
We started over in Maine, our first son born a year later, followed by his brother. They are napping in the nursery now, located on the second floor of the restaurant. There is a full-time nanny during business hours, but I often leave the kitchen to go play with them or bring them for a walk along the epic coastline we call home.
The nights, however, belong to my husband.
Daddy is insatiable and only becomes more so as the years pass.
As my taste turns more potent. More starvation-inducing.
I crave the brutish force he uses on me when his body loves mine, as it does now, his much larger body sating itself in a frenzy on top of me, before turning my body over in the grass and shoving his erection into me from behind, my cheek raking up and back in the grass.