Haunting-Adeline
“You’d be okay with other people seeing me naked?” I challengebreathlessly, watching my shirt flu er to the black floor. His fingers dri upmy spine, slow and deliberate. They burn like lava searing my flesh.“No,” he murmurs in my ear. I watch him through the mirror, his eyesdri ing down un l they’re targeted on my chest. The band of my braghtens, the material bi ng into my skin before it loosens. The black lacycups suppor ng my breasts fall and bare me completely.My nipples are painfully ght. When he catches sight of my hardenedpeaks, his tongue dri s across his lower lip as if he’s saliva ng at the sight.“You want to know what I’d do?” he ques ons. “I would let them watch.I would let them watch me claim you as mine and own every inch of yourbody. They would watch my cock fill every one of your holes and thenwatch you cry because of how hard you came. And then I’d fucking killthem. My cock would s ll be wet from your cum as I’d slice their throatsfor even daring to look at what’s mine.”The fear inside me ghtens into a sharp point, threatening to pop theballoon of sanity I have le .“You’re psycho c,” I gasp. This me he laughs, the dark rumble travelingstraight to the apex of my thighs.“You will learn to love it,” he murmurs distractedly. His a en on hasbeen pulled away as his hands dri across my flat stomach and cup mybreasts. I don’t have small breasts by any means, I was blessed with goodgenes. But the size of his hands—they’re so big that they make my breastslook small, barely overflowing his hands.He’s a monster. Inside and out.S ll, I feel my pan es becoming more drenched.It shouldn’t be possible for the body to concurrently feel hate anddesire, but I suppose we would all be lifeless without the complexi es ofhuman emo on.He squeezes my breasts, nearly to the point of pain.“I’m going to fuck these soon,” he promises before releasing them andmoving his hands to the bu on of my jeans.With a single flick of his hands, my ac ons creep in no stealthier than abank robber in a vault full of money.What the fuck are you doing, Addie?
Fuck, I don’t know. This is wrong. So, very wrong. But I don’t stop himfrom unzipping my jeans. Nor do I stop him from hooking his thumbs oneither side and pulling them down.He helps me out of my shoes first and then slips the jeans completelyfree. I’m le in nothing but my black lacy thong.I swallow, my heart racing as I take in our reflec on. He’s s ll fullyclothed, his eyes ping-ponging across the mirrors to look at every angle ofmy undressed state. He looks as if he can’t decide which mirror to se leon. I fight the urge to cover myself. I find the act of hiding moreembarrassing than standing almost fully naked in front of a beau ful man.“You have to undress, too,” I insist. No way am I going to be the only onele exposed.Finally, he comes out from behind me and stands before me. It hurts tomeet his mismatched eyes. It feels more real when I’m not looking at themthrough a glass mirror.For the first me, this moment with Zade feels consensual. And I’m notsure if I want that. But what fucking sense does that make? To not want itto be consensual.Yet, there’s some sick part of me that wants him to force this. So I canplay vic m later? Go on pretending that my pussy isn’t weeping for himand that I’m not an cipa ng the feel of him inside of me?It’s easier to play the vic m when you’re not the mastermind behind allyour bad decisions.“If you really want that, li le mouse, then you’re going to have to do it,”he says quietly. He looks at me as if he doesn’t believe I’ll willingly undresshim. And I think he knows what that look does to me. The asshole knowsexactly how incapable I am of backing down from a challenge.I pay him the same respect he paid me. I undress him slowly. Gently.Deliberately brushing my fingers against his skin and earning my ownshivers and growls of impa ence.I gasp when I remove his shirt. The scars on his face don’t end there. Twosevere knife wounds blemish his skin—one cu ng across his heart and theother across his defined abs. The skin is raised and jagged, a stark pinkagainst his tanned skin.And they s ll hurt him.
- Page 287 and 288: if I had to guess on what type of m
- Page 289 and 290: "Now, of course, when my father tol
- Page 291 and 292: told John he didn’t give a shit w
- Page 293 and 294: I open my mouth, ready to pry, but
- Page 295 and 296: “Because you’re not listening.
- Page 297 and 298: "You trauma zed me."He leans down a
- Page 299 and 300: “Or what?” he challenges. I sig
- Page 302 and 303: Chapter 27The Manipulator’m just
- Page 304 and 305: worse and probably end up leaving.
- Page 306 and 307: me. He makes it a point to stay on
- Page 308 and 309: My phone vibrates in my hand, and I
- Page 310 and 311: “How did you even come into conta
- Page 312 and 313: preparing for it.“He hasn’t sai
- Page 314 and 315: “How can you even choose?” Daya
- Page 316 and 317: more minutes to come up to the fron
- Page 320 and 321: Chapter 28The Shadowucking imbecile
- Page 322 and 323: “Loca on?” Jay asks, keyboard c
- Page 324 and 325: Walking into this house feels like
- Page 326 and 327: not en rely wrong. Except I’m onl
- Page 328 and 329: Mark tries to brush off my story wi
- Page 330 and 331: Con nuing on my wayward path, I con
- Page 332 and 333: A er a few minutes, I’m out of br
- Page 334 and 335: Another growl pings through my mout
- Page 336 and 337: took it all the way, and every mors
- Page 340 and 341: When I brush my finger ps over them
- Page 342 and 343: “You like being a bad li le girl,
- Page 344 and 345: “Zade, please,” I whimper, my v
- Page 346 and 347: him sliding in and out between my f
- Page 348 and 349: “You motherfucking ass—”He in
- Page 350 and 351: She takes a deep, calming breath.
- Page 352 and 353: Chapter 31The Shadowhat took you so
- Page 354 and 355: “You uh, told them to stay down t
- Page 356 and 357: The air whistles, my only indica on
- Page 358 and 359: “You can only access it through a
- Page 360 and 361: He admits he’s never seen their f
- Page 362 and 363: Sibby is s ll too blind with bloodl
- Page 364 and 365: He was a rich man who came from old
- Page 366 and 367: Now I just have to figure out how t
- Page 368 and 369: Savior’s looks like the type of c
- Page 370 and 371: Dan and I mingle for the next sever
- Page 372 and 373: Interes ng that they believe they c
- Page 374 and 375: four government poli cians.This isn
- Page 376 and 377: His hand ghtens further while my br
- Page 378 and 379: from every spot that our skin clash
- Page 380 and 381: so flesh digging into my teeth prod
- Page 382 and 383: My lip wobbles, and all of the figh
- Page 384 and 385: beneath his lashing tongue.My back
- Page 386 and 387: delivers a sharp slap straight on m
Fuck, I don’t know. This is wrong. So, very wrong. But I don’t stop him
from unzipping my jeans. Nor do I stop him from hooking his thumbs on
either side and pulling them down.
He helps me out of my shoes first and then slips the jeans completely
free. I’m le in nothing but my black lacy thong.
I swallow, my heart racing as I take in our reflec on. He’s s ll fully
clothed, his eyes ping-ponging across the mirrors to look at every angle of
my undressed state. He looks as if he can’t decide which mirror to se le
on. I fight the urge to cover myself. I find the act of hiding more
embarrassing than standing almost fully naked in front of a beau ful man.
“You have to undress, too,” I insist. No way am I going to be the only one
le exposed.
Finally, he comes out from behind me and stands before me. It hurts to
meet his mismatched eyes. It feels more real when I’m not looking at them
through a glass mirror.
For the first me, this moment with Zade feels consensual. And I’m not
sure if I want that. But what fucking sense does that make? To not want it
to be consensual.
Yet, there’s some sick part of me that wants him to force this. So I can
play vic m later? Go on pretending that my pussy isn’t weeping for him
and that I’m not an cipa ng the feel of him inside of me?
It’s easier to play the vic m when you’re not the mastermind behind all
your bad decisions.
“If you really want that, li le mouse, then you’re going to have to do it,”
he says quietly. He looks at me as if he doesn’t believe I’ll willingly undress
him. And I think he knows what that look does to me. The asshole knows
exactly how incapable I am of backing down from a challenge.
I pay him the same respect he paid me. I undress him slowly. Gently.
Deliberately brushing my fingers against his skin and earning my own
shivers and growls of impa ence.
I gasp when I remove his shirt. The scars on his face don’t end there. Two
severe knife wounds blemish his skin—one cu ng across his heart and the
other across his defined abs. The skin is raised and jagged, a stark pink
against his tanned skin.
And they s ll hurt him.
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