Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Then I move in and press my lips to his.
He doesn’t hesitate. He pulls me against him, his mouth finding mine with a hunger that catches me off guard. He kisses me with a depth that has my core igniting and my legs clenching together as a weird kind of pleasure shoots up my spine. His hands move around to my back, pulling me closer until I have no choice but to straddle him.
I do so without hesitation.
His hands grip my hips, guiding me as I rock against him, feeling the hard length of his dick pressing against me. My breath catches in my throat, and my body hums with need, pressing closer, wanting more. The world fades, leaving only the intense heat of him beneath me, the sensation of his hands and mouth consuming me.
I gasp, overwhelmed by a tidal wave of pleasure that threatens to drown me in its intensity.
Fuck. He feels good.
I grind against him with an urgent desperation, harder, deeper, my moans tearing through the night as I get closer to feeling something I’ve never felt before in my entire life - pleasure. It's a raw, primal pleasure. His mouth devours mine, and our hands are roaming, almost desperate.
I need him.
Panting, I reach down between us, driven by a desperation to feel him inside me, hard and painful, stretching me as I sink down onto him. My fingers fumble with his jeans, unbuttoning them frantically as his rigid cock brushes against my fingers, ready. The soft skin against my fingers sends a thrill down my spine.
I need him.
Now.
Then, suddenly, he stops.
He pulls back, his breath ragged and a low growl rumbling in his chest. “Fuck,” he mutters, lifting me off him and setting me down beside him. The loss is instant and aching. He stands and runs his fingers through his hair, growling low, his frustration clear.
His arousal equally as clear.
“What?” I ask, hurt lacing my voice. “What’s wrong?”
He turns, his eyes dark, a mix of emotions I can’t read swirling around. “I can’t fuckin’ do this with you, Nia.”
Confusion knots my chest. “Do what?”
“Fuck you,” he says, the words sharp and raw. “Not like this. Not when you’re...”
My heart drops and rage starts to build deep in my chest. “When I’m what?”
His jaw tightens, and he runs a hand through his hair again, frustration etched into every line of his face. “When you’re so fuckin’ fragile. I’m scared of what it’ll do to you.”
Anger flares, hot and bright. “You think I can’t handle it?”
My voice doesn’t come out loud, instead a deep, angry whisper.
“You been through enough. The shit you’ve seen, I’m not addin’ to it by takin’ what you ain’t ready to give.”
His words hit hard, and I feel the sting of them deep in my chest. “Not ready to give? It has already been taken, Talon. I had my rights stripped from me without a choice. Now, I have a choice and you’re still looking at me like I’m broken. I’m not some fragile little flower, Talon.”
“Aren’t you?”
I flinch. “Fuck you.”
He steps closer, his eyes locked on mine. “You’ve seen shit I can’t begin to understand, I’ve seen what it has done to you. I ain’t the man for you, Nia. I’m not the fuckin’ Knight who is goin’ to save you and spend the rest of my life bein’ the man you want. I’m not the man you want.”
“I never fucking asked you to be my Knight. You’re the one keeping me here, you’re the one insisting you help, you’re the one who kissed me...”
His breath catches, and I see the flicker of something in his eyes—regret, pain, anger, I don’t know. “I’m goin’ to help you, but it’s not because I want to fuck you. It’s because you deserve it and it’s the right fuckin’ thing to do. I’m doin’ it for you.”
I shake my head, biting back the burn in my eyes. “No, you’re doing it for you.”
“Nia—”
I cut him off, my voice breaking. “I’m not so fucking broken. I survived hell. I can survive you.”
His hands clench into fists, and he looks like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. He just stands there, watching me, the tension between us sharp enough to cut.
I turn away, unable to bear the weight of his gaze any longer. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you should stay away. Don’t want to fucking break me any further.”
Before he can respond, I walk off into the night, the cool air biting at my skin and the ache in my chest growing with every step I take. I don’t look back, but I can feel his eyes on me, and it hurts more than I want to admit.
Back in my room, I sink to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest. My heart is a wild, chaotic mess, and I can still feel his presence, I can still smell him on my skin. I’m sick of being treated like I’m fragile, and I’m sick of feeling like I am. Maybe Talon is right. Maybe I am easily broken. But I don’t want to be. I’m done being the weak girl everyone thinks I am.