Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 109674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Nestore’s lips crashed against mine, and his tongue ravaged my mouth like his cock did my pussy.
Soon, his movements became even harder and less controlled, spiking the pain in my core to new heights. His fingers tightened on my throat as he threw his head back for a guttural groan. I felt him release deep inside me, filling me even further. His pumps slowed until he stilled on top of me. His face dipped forward, eyes closed, and lips parted in utter bliss.
God, he was beautiful. Even as my body screamed with pain, I didn’t regret what happened. Not when it made Nestore look so content. I wanted to hate him, but I couldn’t.
His eyes opened, his gaze locking on mine, and the bliss was replaced with triumph. “Your pussy milked my cock perfectly.”
I only returned his stare.
He leaned further down, his lips brushing mine as he murmured, “I want you to hate me as I hated your father.”
I smiled against his lips. “You’ll fail.”
I wanted to hate Nestore, but I couldn’t. His screams woke me at night, not my own. He’d suffered worse under my father’s hand than I ever did.
Maybe I felt guilty—not even just for running, but for being unable to help him. Perhaps part of me wanted him to get the revenge he desired.
Nestore pushed off me and rolled on his back. His six-pack flexed as he knifed up to regard his blood-covered cock. I couldn’t read his expression. He had seen so much blood in his life, so I doubted it bothered him. If anything, it probably turned him on.
My body rang with pain and the distant hum of pleasure. I sat up slowly, dragging the blanket with me and tugging it around my shoulders. I winced at the sharp burn between my thighs when I got up. I didn’t look back at Nestore as I moved into the bathroom.
Something sticky ran down my inner thighs. I grabbed a washcloth and wetted it with warm water, then dabbed it carefully against my sore flesh, wincing at how tender I felt. The hum of my orgasm was distant, and only soreness remained. From the corner of my eye, I saw Nestore lean against the doorframe, watching me with an expression caught between confusion and contempt. I wasn’t sure if the emotions were directed at me. I felt too exhausted to discern them.
He stalked into the room and took the washcloth from me. He glared down at the pinkness on the white fabric, then held it under the water stream. I watched in confusion, not sure about his intentions. Maybe he wanted to clean himself. His cock and pelvic area were smeared with blood and our joint releases.
“Two hearts are beating in my chest. One wants to cherish and worship you. The other wants to make you submit, to make you beg for mercy and for me to fuck you,” he murmured.
He surprised me when he pressed the warm cloth between my legs and began to clean my pussy and thighs with gentle moves. His brows built a hard V, his lips twisted harshly, and he didn’t look me in the eye.
“I missed you, you know?” I whispered.
It was the wrong thing to say. His expression shut off, and rage flared up in his eyes. He straightened to his full height, towering over me.
His eyes burned with harshness as they settled on me. He leaned down. “I want to break you.”
“You can’t break what my father’s already broken many years ago, Nestore.”
“But I can try.”
He pushed me around and pressed me against the sink. My hip bones screamed from the impact.
I braced myself against the cold marble, then lifted my gaze to Nestore’s towering form. He slammed his fist against the spot where his heart was. “I thought I was unbreakable after all I had endured, then you ran!”
I nodded. Nestore could break parts of me—not my body but the foolish part of my heart that wanted to preserve the love we once shared.
“I’ll fuck you bent over that sink now so you can watch me claim your body.”
I was sore and brokenhearted and bone-tired, but I dug my fingers into the marble counter and met his gaze with my head held high. I wouldn’t tell him to stop. “Do what you must to heal.”
I didn’t think this was his way to healing, but I also wasn’t sure Nestore had the ability to heal.
He towered behind me, already hard again. He shook his head.
I watched his face, waiting for the triumph and the cruel smile. Nothing of the sort came. His expression stilled as his eyes slowly took in my back. Maybe he had forgotten the scars there. The slashes had all healed over the years since we had been freed from our prison, but the scars would remain. My soul carried so many more. I could only imagine what Nestore’s innermost being looked like.