Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
All of them devastated.
“You didn’t do this,” Cormac murmurs after the service is over. I feel like someone shoved me underneath a steam roller and flattened me out. “You know this wasn’t your fault.”
“If she never came to that meeting…” I trail off, struggling to keep it under control. “She was a good person.”
“You’re right, she was.”
“And now she’s gone.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” He hugs me tighter, steering me away from the church and over to where we parked the car. We sit inside, the engine running, as mourners begin to filter out, heading to the cemetery for Elena’s burial. “Don’t let yourself indulge in that fantasy, Bianca. You’re a good person too.”
“How can I be? I’m the one that got her blown up.”
“The Russians did that.” His voice lowers to a low rumble. “And I swear I’ll take care of them.”
I believe him, but it doesn’t help.
I keep seeing her. She was mid-conversation. Her mouth was open and there was a brightness in her eye. We’d talked about Second Chances together and she seemed excited about the project. Still skeptical that I was for real and could gather all the funding, but optimistic.
I was feeling the same way. Elena had all the qualities I was looking for.
Most of all, she was a decent person.
In a city filled with fucking monsters.
Many of which are in my own family.
In my own damn bed.
Cormac leans across the car and lightly tugs me to him. He kisses me, holding me, until we’re the only ones left in the parking lot. The mourners are gone, the decent people, the normal, regular, everyday folks. Leaving only us monsters behind.
“It should’ve been me,” I say, choking it out.
But Cormac only snarls in response. He grabs me and drags me toward him, pulling me right into his lap. His hands grip my ass tightly, pulling up my dress as I straddle him, arching my back against the steering wheel. He pulls my hair tight, leaning up to stare into my face.
“Don’t you ever say that again,” he says, biting my lower lip. “Do you hear me, Bianca? That woman might’ve been good, but you’re a saint. You’re an angel. You’re my feather, my lightness—”
“What if I’m not?” I feel dirty and horrible. I can’t stand hearing him talk about me that way. “What if you’re wrong?”
“I’m fucking not.” He buries my mouth in a kiss. And in desperation, I kiss him back, not sure what I’m going to find.
Only sin. Only something wrong.
But also so good.
I grind into him, aware that this is stupid. We’re still in a church parking lot and I’m deep in mourning. I’m emotionally wrecked, but I need him right now. I feel so wounded and raw, but Cormac’s touch distracts me. The way he looks at me, the way he treats me, like I really am something divine, like I’m his goddess and his salvation.
It kills me. And it makes me want to keep going.
I kiss him like an animal. I pull his hair and bite his tongue and moan into his mouth as he reaches up and yanks down my panties. I’m breathing hard as I unbuckle his belt, stroking his cock, but he’s already so hard. He stiffens more as I slip him free of his suit pants, his head glistening with precum, and I straddle and arch down on him, guiding his cock against my wet entrance.
This is so fucked up.
But as he slides inside of me, I don’t care at all.
It feels too right.
What’s the point of being good if everything is constantly working against me? I can make a tiny difference, but it’s like trying to stop a tsunami with a bucket. There’s nothing I can do to stem the flow of horrors all around me.
Why not embrace them?
Or at least feel some pleasure for once in my life?
Cormac snarls as he fucks me. I ride him, the car shaking. The windows fog, and thank God for dark tint. Not like I really care. Not like I can think about anything but Cormac’s cock filling me over and over again.
“God, you’re so fucking good, baby,” he says, driving himself into my soaking pussy. “You’re my everything. You’re air in my lungs. You’re blood on my hands and in my veins. I’d break without you, Bianca, my feather. God, you feel so fucking good.”
“And you feel so wrong but I love it.” I bury my tongue in his mouth. “I want you to come inside me. I want you to fuck me until I can’t think.”
He thrusts harder, roughly wrenching one of my arms behind my back as he controls and uses me, dominating me and filling me again and again. I whimper, gasping, starting to lose my mind with how good it feels. I’m all sorts of fucked up, but I don’t even care.