Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16567 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 83(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16567 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 83(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
Though my mind wanders wherever it does, for the last six months, I’ve come to terms with a hard truth Victor set before me.
His descent into madness after his sister passed led to his reckoning. It changed the very fundamentals that made him human. But where most break down and crumble, Victor had a breakthrough.
Hyper sanity. So far past insanity, Victor Cullen sees the world clearer than anyone else can. The pretense of right and wrong doesn’t factor into his assessments.
Truly fascinating to my scientific mind. And so fucking hot to my lizard brain.
“How do you know he’s in San Francisco?” I ask.
Am I going to go through with his request? Probably. But I’ll have a damn good reason to stand against my morals.
“Because he never left.” The hands that cradled my breasts earlier sink to the small of my back. One ventures lower to squeeze my ass.
“Has this been your plan all along?” I don’t feel used by his request. Understanding his mind makes it easy to shrug off his inability to understand or process emotion. I put myself in this predicament the first time I let him touch me.
And I’ll never regret it. I handed myself over on a silver platter, and all Victor did was sample my offerings.
“No, absolutely not.” Victor’s eyes widen, and he rears back as though I just hit him. “I don’t want to rope you into my business, but I can’t let that piece of shit walk.”
“I get the feeling you’re not telling me the whole story, and I want the details before I pretend to entertain this crazy idea.” It’s not up for debate, and he knows it.
The corner of his mouth ticks up. In a flash, he goes from stern and serious to the naughty devil I’ve spent so much time with. “You’re mighty cute when you take control.”
“Victor, wait.” I start, but Victor shakes his head at my half-assed protest.
“Strap in, Doc. You’re in for one hell of a story.” His fingers start to dance up my body. It tickles when he wraps his hand around the front of my shirt. With expert precision, he undoes two buttons with his thumb and index finger, and my tits spill out.
“It started on the night of my arrest.” He trails a finger up my sternum and between my cleavage. “I was on my way to his apartment that night when I heard a woman scream. The killer in me said, ‘Fuck it. She shouldn’t have been out there in the first place, and now she has to suffer the consequences.’ But I shrugged the little demon off my shoulder and rushed to her aid.”
His eyes are locked on my chest while he speaks. The traveling hand stops on my breast, and he squeezes gently to gauge my reaction. I cut the moan short, but a well-timed thrust of his hips sends me over the edge.
“I need to stop making a habit of this.” Victor buries his face between my breasts but doesn’t move his hand. The tip of his tongue strikes first, glides over the material, and runs over my nipple.
“What’s that?” Shaky breaths make it hard to speak.
“Talking about the worst parts of my life while trying to make you climax.” He snickers.
“It’s what I signed up for.” I grab a handful of his hair and tighten his face against my tits. He deals with trauma in strange ways, usually ending in sexual gratification.
How can I complain when I’m the receiver?
Victor speaks between nibbles and licks. “I recognized her instantly. The detective, who’d been following me for months, bent over a dumpster, with three men clawing at her clothes. They had her pants down her ass cheeks when I got close.”
“Holy shit.” I attempt to move back to see what’s happening on Victor’s face, but with the hand on my ass, he pins me in place. He starts rotating his hips so the head of his cock pushes and prods against my pussy, and any want to move vanishes.
“I took a few blows, had a busted lip and blue eye, but left the three of them in a puddle of blood and piss.” I’m sure he’s skipping the vile details to keep the mood light enough to continue his exploration of my body.
“What happened to the cop?” I mutter as the hand on my ass hooks around my thigh, and his fingers prod at my entrance.
“You’re fucking soaked,” he groans in a hoarse whisper.
He parts my panties with two fingers while a third glides through my wetness. I choke a moan out, doing whatever I can to keep it quiet enough to not rouse any suspicion from outside.
“When the blinding rage subsided, and I regained my senses, the detective had a gun to my back, yelling, ‘You’re under arrest!’” he continues, still coating his finger with my liquids.