Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23595 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 118(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23595 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 118(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
A female scream hangs in the air, but I pay it no attention, escaping into the shadows at the edge of the roof and melting down the back fire escape. Dropping soundlessly into the alley. I get into my car and calmly exit the alley, turning down the side street.
What…
What is the odd prick in my throat?
I don’t know why, but I’m thinking about the woman screaming.
The affectionate way the dead man looked at her before I killed him.
I take a hand off the steering wheel to rub at the spot. For some reason, I’m not feeling as detached as I usually do after a hit. Am I beginning to develop a conscience?
Troubled by that thought, I press my foot more firmly on the gas, positive I will feel better once I’m back in bed with Jolie. She cures me, makes me whole. I’m all but sweating by the time our house comes into view, throwing the car into park and spilling out into the garage. I don’t like coming home to her after a hit. I never have, but it feels worse now, because this love…it’s making me more and more human.
I make it to the bedroom and finally, finally, feel like I can take a deep breath. There she is. My wife. Nude. Covered in love marks from my mouth. Curled onto her side, hugging a pillow. Safe. Breathing. My evil deed didn’t kill the only positive thing in my life. She’s still here.
Letting out a shuddering exhale, I fall into a chair beside the bed, tilting my head to look at the lithe, sensual length of her. I should be stripping off my clothes and getting back into bed before she realizes I’ve been out, but I can’t seem to move. Can’t do anything but be arrested by the beauty of my Jolie. Daddy, she calls me. Daddy. Daddy.
Before I even know what I’m about, I’m yanking down my zipper and fucking my hand, lips peeled back in a wince, my balls so high and tight, I’m probably going to go off in seconds. I stand and walk toward the bed, looking down at the slightly parted crack of her ass and I swallow a groan, semen beading at the tip of my cock.
I’m almost busting when she stirs, humming a little in her throat and rolling over onto her back, yawning. I can’t let her see me like this, dressed in all black street clothes, touching myself while she sleeps. I can’t. So just like earlier on the roof, I step back into the shadows and watch her without breathing, hoping she’ll just drift back to sleep.
But she doesn’t.
She looks over at my side of the bed and I’m not there, her entire body stiffening with fear. “Christopher?” Her sob almost rends me in two. “It’s dark. Where are you?”
I can’t stand her fear for another moment. As fast as possible, I strip down to my boxers and attempt to even my breathing. Go from feral to normal. Normal, like she wants. Needs.
“Sorry, angel eyes,” I say, stepping into the moonlight where she can see me. Her body collapses back onto the pillows, hand to her heart. “I went to get a drink of water.”
The lie burns in my gut. I hate myself for being untruthful with this loyal, honest, courageous woman. It gets worse every time.
She’s given you a conscience.
“S-sorry,” she stammers. “I shouldn’t be freaking out. It’s silly. You should be able to walk to the kitchen at night without me having a panic attack.”
“No,” I say firmly, crossing to the bed. “Hey. There is nothing silly about you. Or what you went through. I should have been beside you. I’m sorry.”
She really has no idea how much.
I get into bed and pull her up against my chest, groaning inwardly at the pure decadence of her body molding to mine, her leg draping over my hip. “Do you want to talk about it?”
The day we met, Jolie told me she’d been kidnapped by a co-worker. I know the full story from the news and her therapy sessions, but I’ve never pushed her to elaborate for me. Probably because it felt extra deceitful, asking her for painful details I already have. Why would I want to put her through that?
Now, however, Jolie nods into my neck. “Yeah…I think I want to talk about it a little bit. Maybe the self-defense class gave me even more bravery than I realized.”
I tug her tighter against me, stroke her back. “Say whatever you want to say. I’m here.”
Her warm breath fans my throat. “Sometimes I feel guilty. About everything that happened to me.”
Above her head, my frown is ferocious. “Why would you feel guilty?”
“For not fighting harder. I was too scared, but I should have sucked it up. I should have fought and…I should have recognized earlier there was something wrong with him.”