Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83519 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83519 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
I press every inch of my naked body to hers, crushing her until she’s taking ragged breaths.
“Your safe word is El Salvador,” I growl into her ear.
Chapter 8
Lauren
El Salvador.
The place we met.
The place he discovered what I needed.
He was never the man capable of offering that to me.
He’s that man now.
Coming in here was stupid. Threatening his life was worse.
Two huge mistakes.
Two things I knew I had to do.
Two things I’m paying for now with the weight of him crushing me to the point I can only take very shallow breaths. Eventually, I’ll pass out if he doesn’t shift his body.
It terrifies me, but not because I’m afraid of what will happen if I do. It scares me because I don’t want to miss a second of it.
He’s going to hurt me tonight, his weapon of choice thick and hard against my ass. My blood sings, the chorus to the song he’s going to make me scream tonight.
I yelp out in pain when he grips a handful of my hair and jerks my head back.
“Did you fucking hear me?”
“El Salvador,” I confirm. “Got it.”
It’s not a real out. I have no doubt if I say it, he’ll just use it to torture me further. The man is deranged. There isn’t a hint of the man who begged me to stop touching him in that hallway long ago.
The only way this is going to end is with me bleeding and him exhausted.
“Pants off,” he growls, not pulling back an inch to give me room, nor releasing my hair from his fist.
I do my best, tears streaking down my face as my knuckles scrape over the roughly painted door I’m pressed against. It reeks of stale cigarettes and musk. The entire room is dank and disgusting. It’s the perfect setting for the shame that will engulf me later.
As I try my best to get my jeans down, he rips my shirt right up the back, his hot breath on my shoulder in an instant.
I don’t have time to wonder what he’ll do next because he sinks his teeth into my shoulder blade, and the pain radiates from the bite.
“Stop!” I scream, my hands freezing on my clothes.
He responds by pressing my face back against the door, his mouth near my ear.
“Move a fucking muscle and I’ll make you bleed.”
God help me, I believe him. I’m torn between wanting to prevent that at all costs and punishing myself further by forcing him to keep up his end of the bargain.
The sound of tearing fabric fills the room, my harsh breaths increasing as pieces of my clothing flutter to the floor at my feet.
A rough hand slips between my legs now that he’s ripped away every barrier between us. My nipples scream from the rough texture of the door as tears roll down my cheeks.
Shame. Humiliation. Disgrace.
I feel all of it when his fingers pull away wet with my arousal.
I try to draw in deep heaving breaths, but he still hasn’t relented an ounce of the weight he has against my back.
“Please,” I beg, knowing I want him to stop, knowing I need him to keep going.
“Have you always been such a dirty fucking whore?”
I can’t answer him. My sobs are taking over, making it even harder to breathe.
“How hard was it for your daddy to keep his hands off of you, Lauren? I bet you were his fucking favorite.”
His words are disgusting and makes my skin crawl as if a million ants are taking tiny bites of my flesh. It’s so far from the truth, I almost open my mouth to explain how I wasn’t my father’s favorite. I easily could’ve been, but Liana protected me from that.
I let the demons seep in instead, let his rough hands roll over me.
I take a deep breath, gagging on the sharp intake of air when he pulls back some, allowing a little room between the door and me. But the reprieve doesn’t last long as harsh fingers twist my nipple, causing me to scream out once again.
“Fucking stop!” I roar, knowing it will do no good.
I fight, try to jerk away from him, but it only brings more pain.
“Angel! No!”
He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t question what he’s doing. His hands don’t shake or tremble. He powers forward, my pain and humiliation his only goal.
It’s what I wanted. What I asked for. What I needed.
And he provides.
“You’ll fucking keep it there or I’ll fuck your ass raw,” he threatens as he lifts my leg, situating my boot on the doorknob. My torn and tattered jeans hang from my ankle, and the sight of it is strange to me as I glare at it, my brain not fully online at the moment.
There’s no warning. No, here it comes, baby… get ready before Angel slams inside of me.
My jaw unhinges on a silent scream at the invasion.