Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 45135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
There would be no tears shed, no remorse for the shitty sibling relationship they had. They’d had nothing together in terms of having a family bond, and aside from her brother being blood, he’d been a stranger to her, a cruel man that terrified her.
Going into the room, she turned, about to shut the door, but a startled sound left her at the fact Fury was right behind her.
“Go, leave,” she said, her voice raised, her anger and frustration causing her arousal to take a backseat and allowing her courage to rise.
But she had to crane her neck back just to look into Fury’s face, and Angelina couldn’t help the desire that washed through her at the sight of all the masculinity that poured from him.
“You got some balls telling me what I should do.” He stepped further into the room, and while staring at her, he shut the door behind him. They were closed in together, the smell of whatever dark and spicy cologne he wore, and the scent of the alcohol coming from him, filling the room and making her wetter.
“You’re a bastard.” Angelina clenched her jaw and knew pushing him like this wasn’t smart. But she was pissed at herself, and at her family, and especially at the situation she was in. She had no control over what was happening, and it reminded her of being back at home. She fucking hated it.
And then he was on her before she could even grasp what in the hell he was doing. He used his upper body to push her backward, and she fell onto the mattress, bouncing for a second, his big body pressing her down.
He wedged his hips between her thighs, and she parted her lips as shock and a shot of heightened desire consumed her. Angelina sucked in a lungful of air, feeling dizzy and lightheaded.
“You think I’m a bastard?” he challenged her in a deep, low voice. His focus was on her lips, and she felt herself getting drunk from her lust. “You’re pissed because I have you here against your will?” The way he spoke didn’t sound like a question, but more that he was taunting her.
“You’re an asshole, a psychopath.” She struggled, but it wasn’t as forceful as she could have made it.
He smirked, but it was dark, haunting.
“I know,” was all he said.
He was so damn cocky and sure of himself. He was a bastard for what he had done, for what he was doing to her, but it also made the dark, hidden part of her rise up and appreciate it … need more of it.
“Fuck. You.”
Why am I playing with the devil, pushing him like this?
“Mmm.” He pushed up a bit and looked down the length of her body. “I can make that happen if you are desperate for my cock.” He pressed his hips further against her, and the feel of his huge erection had an involuntary gasp leaving her.
“I want you to tell me that you want me, even though I’m a motherfucker.” He let those words sink in before continuing.
“I’ll never say that.” Even though it is true.
He leaned in close, and she held her breath, waiting to see what he would do, what he would say. When their lips were only an inch apart, she turned her head, not wanting to give in to the twisted desires she felt.
Truth was she was so wet, so aroused, that it was hard to even think straight.
He gripped her chin and forced her to look at him again. For long seconds he didn’t say anything, didn’t even move, but his damn erection was like a thick steel rod pressed right up against her pussy.
“I can feel how hot your cunt is, Angelina.” He growled out the words, like he wanted her to be humiliated. “I bet if I touched your cunt, you’d be wet.”
“You’re drunk and a bastard,” she whispered. Would he have done this, acted this way if he’d been sober?
“I am, on both accounts.” He ground his erection into her, and she hated that her body had this reaction to him. Even with layers of clothing separating them, Angelina could feel how big and long he was, how thick and massive his cock was.
I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t need this.
“I don’t want this,” she lied.
He ground harder into her, rotating his hips so he rubbed her clit, and hot tears spilled out of her eyes. “Yes, you do.” He leaned in another inch closer. “You want it bad enough you’re lying to yourself and me.”
She shook her head, but couldn’t find the words to make this stop.
It’s because you don’t want to stop this. You do want him.
Angelina’s traitorous body was giving her desire away, and she wanted to scream, to claw at him, and make him see she was stronger than this.