Read Online Books/Novels:
Hundreds (Dollar #3)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:
“I’m done hurting her. She’s been hurt enough. It’s time I set her free…”
Once upon a time, I wished to go home and forget.
|Books in Series:|
|Books by Author:|
HE’D ALMOST DESTROYED me by taking me.
He’d broken into my body, my mind, my memories, my hardships. He’d infiltrated the part of me I’d kept locked away from Alrik’s torture. He’d knocked on the door where Tasmin hid, ripping open the locks and dragging me back into the living.
Somehow, by forcing himself inside me, he’d switched awful historical memories with confused present ones. He’d shown me I was stronger than I thought. Shown me how to seek comfort after having none.
In one act of unbridled brutality, he’d awoken me to a world where I didn’t die if I had sex. I didn’t crumble if a man touched me. I didn’t break if I talked.
He’d almost destroyed me.
But he hadn’t.
And from the ashes, I stood tall.
WHAT THE FUCK was I thinking?
How could I let myself do such a thing?
I was worse than him. Worse than the monster who’d kept her.
At least his intentions were obvious. Me? I’d lulled her into believing I’d protect and care for her, only to snap at the worst possible time.
Dragging a hand through my hair, I cursed the shake in my fingers. I needed to get myself under control before I lost even more self-discipline. I couldn’t afford to let my mind go to the tangled place where I struggled to climb out of.
My heart raced. My blood gushed. I was wild with fucking regret.
Tracks showed on the thick carpet where I’d paced all night. Ever since taking Pimlico back to her room, I couldn’t stop.
My body couldn’t stay still while memories of slipping inside her tormented me—of feeling her incredible heat, then fucking shattering as her sobs began.
I couldn’t get the sight of her tears or the sound of her first words out of my head.
My body didn’t know if it wanted to find a release after the worst sexual experience of my life or swear off women altogether.
Even hours later, I still felt her around me. I still suffered the soft bounce of her in my lap as she cried and punched me and demanded to know where I was two years ago.
Her tears were my dishonour. Her questions were my punishment.
I’d taken something that should’ve been healing and full of whatever was growing between us and turned it into yet another rape.
I hadn’t waited until she was ready, and now, I’d destroyed myself too.
My cello sat where I’d left it on the floor. I wanted nothing more than to choke it, murder it, and create tortured music. I needed chords and rhythm to make sense of this confounding emotion inside me. I needed the crux I always used to keep myself sane.
But I stayed clear.
I couldn’t hurt her more than I already had.
Music was my salvation but it was Pim’s absolute nightmare.
Each time I’d played, Pimlico had found me. My songs sent her back to hell while her presence in my life made me join her in the fiery pits.
I wouldn’t play because I didn’t want her to find me again. She needed to stay away for a while. I couldn’t be around her until I figured out who I was, who I wanted to be, and just how to be a fucking gentleman again.
Thoughts of getting rid of her taunted me. It would be a relief to remove her from my yacht and leave her in my wake.
That would be the right and best thing to do.
Now that I’d snapped.
Perhaps, I’d arrange for her freedom.
Maybe, I’d give her to another.
Regardless, the best thing for everyone would be to send her away and never see her again.
DEAR NO ONE,
He slept with me.
He finally showed me what he will do. What he expects. How it will be from now—
I flung the pen across the room.
That’s not true.
Yes, he’d hurt me. Yes, he’d been inside me. And yes, he’d done what I’d always feared he’d do.
But he hadn’t been cruel. He hadn’t beaten me or called me names. He hadn’t killed me for sobbing in his arms, screaming at him, or hitting him over and over again.
He’d held me. Soothed me. Comforted me.
He’d taken something wrong and somehow turned it…right? No, not right but definitely different from every other sexual experience I’d endured.
He could steal from me so easily. He could hurt me far too simply.
Yet he hadn’t.
He’d cradled me in his arms. He’d kissed away my tears.
He let me hit him.
I shook my head at the tenderness he’d shown. He’d touched me against my wishes and entered me without permission, but he’d done so much afterward to make up for his mistake.
You’re giving him permission to rape you now?
I climbed from the bed, picked up the pen from the floor, and returned to the mattress all while trying to understand my string-knotted thoughts.
I wasn’t giving him permission, exactly, but I wouldn’t shoulder him entirely with the blame. I hadn’t been totally innocent. I was no longer a trapped captive—used at the whims of her diabolical master. I was free—or as much as I could be on a yacht with the sea all around me. I lived with a man I found immensely attractive, exotic, and secretive.