Total pages in book: 767
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
This is nothing like lovemaking.
When he’s all the way in, he stops, his eyes glittering with dark hunger, and a different kind of tension invades my body, banishing the last of unwelcome arousal and stiffening my resolve. The sensual allure of his looks is still there, but I now see the monster behind the handsome face, the killer who tortured me and ripped apart my life. There’s no longer any ambiguity in what I’m feeling, no ambivalence of any kind. My stalker, the man I hate, is violating my body, and I’m glad. I’m glad because his cruelty hurts less than his tenderness, his ruthlessness less frightening than his mercy.
Sucking in a bracing breath, I prepare to endure a hard, rough fucking, but he doesn’t move. His face is taut with lust, his body so tense he’s vibrating with it, but he doesn’t thrust, and I realize he caught on to my discomfort and is giving me time to adjust.
In his own way, he’s trying to be gentle—which is the last thing I want.
Gathering my courage, I run my tongue over my lips and watch the hunger in his eyes intensify.
“Do it,” I whisper, flexing my inner muscles. I can feel him throbbing inside me, hard and thick and dangerous. “Just fucking do it.”
He stares down at me, and I sense his struggle, feel the monster doing battle with the man. I’m not the only one with mixed emotions here. There is a part of Peter that hates me too, that sees in me a reminder of his tragedy. He wants me, but he also wants to hurt me, to make me pay for what happened to his wife and son. He might not realize this himself, but I know it. I feel it. Our connection was forged in loss and pain, our intimacy born in torture. There’s nothing normal about his attraction to me; it’s as twisted as my response to him.
His vengeance is what binds us, and no amount of gentleness can change that fact.
I see the exact moment the monster starts to win the battle. Peter’s jaw tightens as he withdraws partway, then plunges back in with a hard thrust. “Is this what you want from me?” His voice is low and rough, his gray eyes filled with growing darkness. He flexes his hips, and I gasp as he spears deeper into me, his hand tightening around my wrists. “Tell me, Sara. Is this what you want?”
I can still say no, let the man restrain the beast, but I’ve chosen my path and I’m not backing down. Maybe this final act of vengeance is what we both need, the punishment required for my absolution.
Maybe if he unleashes his darkness on me, we might both finally be free.
“Yes,” I whisper and brace myself. “That’s precisely what I want.”
Chapter 32
Peter
I don’t know what I expected, but as I gaze into Sara’s hazel eyes and see the hatred there, I feel my fantasies dissolving, the lies I fed myself evaporating in the harsh light of truth. Her body might respond to me, but I’m still her enemy—and she is mine. Even with her silky pussy clasping my throbbing cock, the desire thrumming in my blood is tinged with violence, my need for her darker than anything I’ve known.
I don’t just want to fuck her; I want to break her open, to wreak my vengeance on her delicate flesh.
“Sara…” I claw for remnants of my sanity, for something to hold on to as a mindless red tide descends on me, the vicious lash of hunger undermining my control. “You don’t know what you’re—”
“Just fucking do it,” she whispers again, holding my gaze defiantly, and the last thread of my restraint snaps.
With a low, harsh groan, I pull back and surge into her, scarcely registering the way her pussy clenches in panicked resistance, the tender inner tissues giving way under my assault. She’s wet, but she’s tight, almost as small as a virgin, and even in a haze of lust, I realize what it means.
She hasn’t had sex in a while—likely not since her husband.
The man whose arrogance killed my son.
My desire turns even darker, fueled by a surge of agony-born rage, and I lower my head, capturing Sara’s mouth again. Only this time, I can’t hold back, and the kiss is hard and savage, as violent as the emotions tearing me apart. The delicious feel of her, the sweet scent, the wet, silky texture of her mouth—it all drives me insane, and I taste the copper of her blood as my teeth sink into her lower lip, breaking the tender skin. It should stop me, or at least make me pause, but instead, it just whets my appetite. I need this from her: her pain, her suffering. It’s as if a stranger has taken over my body, twisting my craving for her into a need to punish, to make her pay for her husband’s sins. Possessing Sara this way is both heaven and hell, the violent pleasure of fucking her mixing with the bitter knowledge that I failed to keep my promise.