Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
For the first time, I see my mom crack slightly. She flinches, paling. Her bottom lip quivers. The tears aren't for show this time. I think they might actually be real. "You don't mean that," she says. "Henrietta, you're my daughter. You can't just abandon me."
"My name is Hattie," I say, "and I'm not abandoning you. I'm walking away from the person who never deserved me."
She chokes on a sob, wailing.
Sidney doesn't even flinch. Neither do I.
He dips his head, brushing his lips across mine in a soft kiss before he turns back to my mother, his expression black enough to scare the devil himself. "If you ever raise your hand to her again, the whole fucking world will know exactly what kind of monster you," he warns her. "You don't look at her. You don't speak to her. You don't come within fifty feet of her unless she decides you can. If you do, I'll ruin you with a fucking smile on my face."
"Please," she sobs.
"Goodbye, Mom," I whisper, allowing Sidney to guide me around her and then into the house.
As soon as the door shuts, muffling her cries, he scoops me up into his arms, holding me like he's never going to let me go.
"I've got you, butterfly," he croons, carrying me down the hall while I sob. I'm not sad, though. I'm not even hurt. For the first time, I feel free. I feel powerful. And I feel loved.
"Are you okay?" Sidney asks when I finally cry myself out in his arms. We're on my bed, his arms around me like a shield. I don't know if my mother is still outside. I don't care. I'm right where I need to be.
"Yes," I whisper, turning my face up to his. "Are you?"
He presses his forehead against mine. "So long as you're okay, I'm perfect, baby."
"I love you."
His eyes flutter and then fall closed, a tremor working its way through his big body. "Say that again."
"I love you," I whisper, my voice raw.
"I love you more than life, Hattie," he chokes in response, shuddering again. "Christ, butterfly. You have no idea how long I've been dreaming about hearing those words from you."
"Sorry I took so long," I whisper. "I was a little busy trying to find myself."
His eyes spring open, his gaze tangling with mine. "Did you?"
"Yeah." My lips curve into a smile. "Want to know how?"
"How?"
"I asked this grump to save my life, and he taught me that I had all the tools I needed to do it myself," I say. "He reminded me that I'm strong, capable, and beautiful. He showed me how to stand proudly at his side and to fight for what matters to me." My bottom lip quivers. "He taught me how to let myself be loved and that I was always worthy of it."
"Jesus," he rasps, sinking a hand into my hair. His lips come down on mine, his kiss as wild as it is healing. "You're perfect, Hattie. So fucking perfect."
"Show me," I breathe. That's what I need right now. I need him on top of me. I need him inside me. I need the whole world to disappear while he loves me the way only he can.
I don't have to ask twice.
He tumbles me backward, his body covering mine. His lips brush my eyelids, and then each of my cheeks, before he kisses me in that way only he can—the way that says I'm his and he's mine and nothing else matters to him.
I'm not sure he stops kissing me at all as he strips me bare, his calloused fingers running over every inch of my skin. I strip him too, my fingers stiff and awkward and eager as I help pull his shirt off and then his pants.
"You're so fucking stunning," he breathes, kissing his way down my body, reverence in his voice. His lips seek out every single place my mother ever taught me to be self-conscious about, pressing fervent worship over the wounds her words left behind.
I don't feel shy or exposed or like I'm not enough. With his words ringing in my ears and his sincerity washing over me, I don't feel anything except whole and perfect.
"Sidney!" I sob, my thighs clamping around his head when he dives between them, worshipping there too. He eats me in long, slow strokes that make me writhe, and then in relentless, greedy strikes that leave me babbling his name.
I come again and again, caught in a web of pleasure so intense, I don't ever want it to end. I want to die right here, with this man on his knees between my legs, eating me like he's addicted.
His tongue dips lower, circling my back entrance, and I'm pretty sure I do die. I scream as I shatter, falling to pieces. My lungs cease to function. So does my brain. I'm just pleasure and cum and moans beneath him.