"That's it, baby," he continues, his tone almost soothing, despite the filth spilling from his lips. "Take my cock. Take all of it."
Baby.
My belly flutters, my heart soaring like a fool even though I know it's a runaway utterance. A thoughtless spi...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
💕Author's Note: Hey, gorgeous! Read ahead by becoming a patron at www.EmendedHearts.com/join
💗💗💗
I almost spit a mouthful of oatmeal back into the bowl when the coldest, iciest blue eyes I've ever seen fill my line of vision, their piercing quality effortlessly standing out against the backdrop of the enormous room, making even the most impressive aspects of the custom dining area pale in comparison. One minute I'm by myself and the next I'm not, the sight of his towering, imposing form too abrupt for words, his presence beyond startling, literally making my heart stop.
Frost walks into the dining room, the casual shirt and slacks he had on the last time I saw him replaced by a dark tracksuit and running shoes. But even more noticeable is the big black shoulder bag slung across his broad chest.
The hairs on the back of my neck rise as though they're reaching for the heavens—and I don't blame them. They're owner is right there with them, silently praying for God to come down and save her from the devil who has finally shown himself. But I can't. Because, right now, it seems Roni Gallo is, quite literally, incapable of doing pretty much anything.
Even though my first instinct is to get up and back away from him, my shocked system won't physically let me. I sit paralyzed in my chair, the spoon dropping from my hand instantly, as if I've lost all coordination in my body, the piece of silverware slipping between trembling fingers and colliding with china and hot oatmeal with an audible clink.
I watch in silent trepidation as he continues to advance, holding my gaze all the while, provoking a nation of goosebumps all over my sore body that sweep all the way up to my ears.
I clutch the front of the robe impulsively, becoming extremely self-conscious as I remember my nakedness underneath, my lungs speeding open and closed as he gets closer and closer.
He stops a few chairs away from me, eyeing me intently, his expression neutral, and all I can do is return the favor, staring up at his tall, imposing frame, into sharp, arresting eyes as I'm rendered completely speechless.
Every cell in me wants to take off running in the opposite direction, and almost instinctively, my eyes dart to his hands, remembering his daunting grip on the crop. But unlike last night, his large hands are free—save for the gold band on his ring finger.
I look away from him, my eyes flitting back to my oatmeal, feeling a familiar wave of guilt that I wish would go away, one that keeps resurfacing every time my eyes land on it, every time I see the physical reminder that this is wrong. Abhorrent. Unforgivable.
"Good afternoon," he says, his voice commanding my attention even though I don't want to look at him, the plain words a complete contrast to his severe features. My eyes dart back to him in confusion, widening with surprise.
"Afternoon?" is all I can offer in return, a bit taken aback. "What time is it?" I ask, realizing I haven't seen a single clock since I woke up—including the one that I'm positive was here last night. Both my phone and the Ice Block were dead when I got my duffel bag back, and after seeing myself in the bathroom, charging either of them wasn't exactly a priority.
