Tempting Bad Read Online M. Robinson

Categories Genre: Angst, BDSM, Contemporary, Dark, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 131209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 437(@300wpm)
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“Of course I do. What did you have in mind?” Her voice was silky and smooth; it had that same velvety tone that drove me wild.

The tone that I thought was for me.

It was the same voice that she shared with other men.

“I miss you, too,” she repeated, not caring or sensitive to the fact that I was there.

How many times had she said that to me?

How many times did I believe it?

It was my, I miss you, that she said to other men.

No.

Not men.

Clients.

I didn’t realize I was behind her, until I could hear his breathing on the other end of her cellphone. It mimicked mine in every way possible. The same heady, overpowering, intense rhythm that I thought only I displayed.

How many men had fallen in love with her?

How many men did she make weak at the knees, and blind to the truth?

What number was I?

One, ten, a hundred?

“How much do you want to fuck me? Do you want me to swallow your come?” she seductively asked.

I had been hit, punched, slapped, beaten… to the point I thought I was going to die.

Nothing.

Not one of those blows could have prepared me for what I was feeling; for what I was going through.

The rage.

The fury.

The craze.

“Do you have any idea how hard you make me come? How good it feels when you’re deep inside me?” she added.

The control. The tight rope that I securely held in place, never wanting it to break.

Snapped.

“I’m going to fuck you all night… so that I can’t walk tomorrow, would you like that?”

“You have no idea—” I roughly grabbed the phone out of her delicate hands, and threw it across the room.

It hit the wall and shattered.

Exactly like my control.

I moved in a trance-like state and harshly gripped onto her arms, moving her from the window and pushing her against the wall.

The thud brought me right back to that night.

The night I lost myself.

The night I ended all the hurt and pain… the beatings, the screams, the tears, the begging.

The blood…

So much fucking blood.

“What the fuck?” she screamed breathless.

And I broke.

I lunged at her.

I hurt her.

I pushed her.

I tried to control her.

I knew I was being rough, but I didn’t care. I wanted to hurt her. I wanted her to feel an ounce of what I was feeling.

A breath of fucking air she shot from my lungs.

Something.

Anything.

“Devon, calm down” she begged in the same voice I had heard my mother scream countless times. She stepped toward me and I lost it. I pushed her with the same strength, I would push a man; her head hit the wall with the force that could knock someone out.

“Shhh…” I quickly went at her. I locked her hands above her head, and grabbed at her throat. Placing her where I wanted her.

Where I needed her.

What happened next, will be the second worst regret of my life.

My first…

Was killing my father.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

<>D<>

“You think I’m such a nice fucking guy? Don’t you, Bambi, hmm? Let me hear your pretty fucking lips say the words?” I roared, letting go of the pressure on her throat.

“Yes…” she breathed out, shocked, confused, and torn with how she should feel.

She was terrified, a deer in headlights.

“You want to hear a story, something to tuck you into bed tonight? Or wait, you probably won’t need that… will you? You’ll be busy sucking another man’s cock. Shoving it into the back of your throat like you fucking love!” I shouted close to her face, making her lip tremble and her body jump.

“Let me tell it to you anyway.” I held her firmer, too tight, too hard. “I made my sisters go hide, deep in the back of my closet. I made sure to place clothes all over them, praying that he wouldn’t find them. Praying that he wouldn’t be able to. It wouldn’t get to that. I wouldn’t let it,” I declared, not breaking the intensity of our stares. I don’t think she blinked one time, and I didn’t think I had either.

“I hid a bat under my bed, Brooke, under my fucking bed. I don’t know what possessed to me to hide one, but I did. Maybe I knew what I was going to do. Though I wouldn’t admit it.” I shivered, trying to control the tears that were at bay.

“I walked out into the living room and my mother—that nice, amazing fucking woman you met—was on the floor. Her arm was broken, her face brutally beaten. I had never seen her that bad. Her face still haunts my dreams; my nightmares. The same fucking ones you’re so proud you can stop and calm. Those nightmares,” I whispered, trying to belittle her. Mock her. Hurt her.

“I broke this award that he had received months prior, Cop of the Year, they called him. The man was a fucking monster. I shattered it, just like I did your goddamn phone,” I reminded, squeezing her throat a little bit harder and her eyes watered.


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