Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
The sin of it all made it more maddening for me. She was poison to my blood.
Before I knew what I was doing, I leaned my arm against the wall with my face resting against it, allowing the hot water to run down my head and scars.
I shut my eyes, reaching for my throbbing, hard dick in the palm of my hand, needing some release.
“Fuck…” I stroked my cock, picturing only her.
The way she’d moan.
The way she’d beg.
Her whimper.
Her cum…
The expressions on her face.
I thought about tying her up, spanking her ass, giving her a safe word. I thought about her taste, her blood, her scent. There wasn’t much I didn’t envision as she took my cock like the good girl she was.
I imagined her back arching, her nipples puckering, her cunt tightening.
“Goddamn…” I fucked my hand harder and faster, my hips rotating in the opposite direction of my heady movements, envisioning her pretty pussy, pulsating, dripping, squirting down my sack.
The way she purred, melted, begged for mercy. Over and over again. I wouldn’t stop until she couldn’t walk for days, feeling me every second between her legs.
My dick, my fingers, my tongue, my mouth…
“Uhhh…” I groaned out a little too loudly on the edge of coming, but not quite there yet.
My dick was getting harder to the point of pain until finally, I came so fucking hard I saw stars. My entire body shook with the most intense orgasm of my life.
“Fuck!”
My biggest fear had come to life. Her poison infected me, and it was keeping me alive.
The irony was not lost on me.
Hennessy
“Oh!” my uncle’s fiancée, Elizabeth, announced, walking into the kitchen while I cooked. She looked at me like I was crazy. “You know we have a chef, right?”
I smiled at her, trying to be friendly.
She took a peek into the pots. “What are you cooking?”
“My uncle has never cooked for you?”
She scoffed out a chuckle. “That’s not how our relationship works.”
“You don’t cook for him?”
She laughed. “We have a chef, one of the best in the world. He doesn’t want me cooking for him.”
“Hmm, food is the key to a man’s heart.”
She was quick with it. “Which is why I hired the best for us.”
“I see…” I hesitated for a moment. “Well, your chef doesn’t cook Peruvian food.”
“Is that what that is?” She inhaled, looking all around. “Smells good.”
I smiled again. At least she was trying to play nice. We were getting somewhere, but as soon as it occurred, it was over because she informed…
* * *
“We’re going to my brother’s house for Thanksgiving tomorrow.”
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
Hennessy: Tis the season to be jolly.
“We do it every year,” she revealed. “You’ll get to meet the family. They’re dying to meet you.”
I jerked back. “Me? Why?”
“You’re my fiancé’s niece. Of course they're dying to meet you.”
Unable to resist, I blurted, “Did you know my father?”
“You could say that.”
“That’s why I’m asking you.”
“Knew isn’t the word I’d use for your father.”
My eyebrows pinched together before I continued. “The family hasn’t spoken to my uncle since before I was born. How long have you guys been together?”
She eyed me cautiously for a moment. “That’s what they told you?”
“What do you mean?”
She leaned against the kitchen island. “What do you know about us?”
“Up until I moved here, I didn’t know about you at all.”
“Interesting. And your uncle?”
“They had a falling out over him choosing the Graves over running the family business.”
“That’s what they told you?”
I cocked my head to the side. “You already said that.”
“Hennessy—”
“Is that not the truth?”
“There’s always two sides to every story.”
“There’s actually three. Yours, theirs, and the truth.”
She wavered, answering, “You’re a very clever girl. That’s a good trait to have in this world.”
Using what I said to my advantage, I asked, “Why don’t you have to marry into the Brotherhood?”
She was expressionless, with no reaction.
“From what I hear…” I tread lightly. “Deja has an arranged marriage, and you’re a Devereaux, so…”
It was her turn to tilt her head, side-stepping my question. “Your family is always invited into our home, Hennessy, just as you are. You’re making yourself quite comfortable, I see. Your crows keep shitting all over the property.”
You’d think I’d be used to everyone blowing me off, but it still felt like a dagger to the heart. Placating her, I replied, “I’ll talk to them about that.”
She mocked. “Good luck with that. Maybe try feeding them in the woods instead of so close to the house? I’m sure the groundskeeper will appreciate that.”
“Douglas,” I pointed out, “said he had no problem with me feeding the birds in the backyard.”
“You’re on a first-name basis with the staff?”
“Yeah,” I clipped. “I also eat with them sometimes. They like my Peruvian food.”
Her eyes went wide.
“I don’t like eating alone.”
“Is that why you’re making so much food?”
I couldn’t tell her most of it was for her nephew, so I just stated, “I’m used to cooking for a lot more people. Maybe you would like to try some?”