Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
My hands come to his thighs, and he’s not gentle when he thrusts into my throat, making me gag.
“Take it. Take me,” he says, drawing his length out. I cough, having just an instant to catch my breath before he does it again, tugging on my hair to raise me up so my upper back is on the bed. He sets one knee beside my face, still pumping his cock as he watches me. “Swallow me whole, sweetheart,” he says and pushes his length all the way inside my mouth, down my throat.
I dig my nails into his thighs, panicking, but he draws out again.
“Relax your throat. Breathe when I draw out,” he instructs, moving inside me, taking his time as I try to relax. After a long while, he bites down on his lip and begins to fuck me, to press my head back into the bed and fuck my face.
I break skin on his thighs and gasp for breath between thrusts and he never takes his eyes from me. His taste is salty-sweet and when he’s close, when I feel him thicken, I watch his eyes go impossibly dark.
“Swallow. I want to feel you swallow,” he tells me and throws his head back. When I feel the first spurts of come, I can’t help but swallow as I listen to his moans of pleasure, my swallows milking him for all he has until, finally, he draws out and stumbles backward. I fall forward on my hands and knees and pant for breath.
When I look up at him, he’s watching me. I wipe away the mascara I’m sure has streaked my face.
He crouches down, rubs his thumb across my chin and puts it into my mouth. “You missed some. Swallow,” he says.
I do.
“Good girl.” He swipes his tongue across my cheek then kisses me deeply. “I like the taste of my come on your tongue,” he says.
“Me too,” I say and kiss him back.
“Your turn to come.” He lifts me to lay me on the bed, my legs and ass hanging off. If he didn’t hold me up, I’d slide to the floor, but he does hold me. He buries his face between my legs and eats me whole, his mouth soft, tongue wet, the scruff along his jaw a rough contrast. In moments, I’m coming, my hips bucking, Silas watching. When it’s over and I slide to my knees once more, he takes my face in his hands and brings his forehead to mine.
“I love you, O. I love you so much, it hurts.”
I look into his turquoise eyes and watch them burn with the truth of what he says. I think about the boy I once met, the man he has become, the hero who broke, who straddles the line between good and evil, who has always been there to rescue me, no matter how he had to do it.
“I love you, Silas, and one day, when you need me, I’m going to rescue you. I promise.”
31
OPHELIA
The next two days pass quietly, which is strange, and, if I’m honest, a little worrying. Something is coming. I feel it.
There’s no mention of Ethan, and Silas doesn’t try to keep me from calling my dad or anyone else as long as I stay in the house with him. He’s distracted, checking his phone often and making calls from the study, but tells me it’s nothing every time I ask what it is.
He feels it too, I think, that this is not over. The worst is yet to come and we’re both just waiting for it.
The night before the funeral, I decide I need to go. I expect an argument and am ready to tell him that my father will be there, that nothing will happen to me at the funeral, but I don’t need to use any of those arguments because Silas acquiesces.
“We’ll meet your father at the church,” he says. The funeral will be in Sinistral.
“Okay,” I say quickly and call my dad to tell him the plan before Silas changes his mind.
The funeral is late in the afternoon. It’s a rainy, dreary day and I put on a black dress and leather boots and pull my hair into a ponytail at the base of my neck. Silas wears a dark suit. Hamish stays at the brownstone. He’s pretty much there all the time except overnight.
“The police haven’t found anything new?” I ask when we’re in the car and heading toward Sinistral.
“Not that I know but I doubt they’d tell me.”
“Nigella seems to have a way of finding things out.”
He glances at me. “She does. But not this time. Not yet anyway.”
That’s all he says so I drop it. When we near the church, we find the parking lot is full and two men are directing overflow.
“Wow.” I’m surprised at the turnout although I guess I shouldn’t be. The Sullivan Fox the public knows is a very different man than the one I came to know.