Rapture by N. N. Britt

Author:N. N. Britt [Britt, N. N.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781732973107
Goodreads: 42532189
Publisher: N. N. Britt
Published: 2019-03-04T00:00:00+00:00

22 Justice

My mind is still lingering somewhere between post-sex delirium and physical exhaustion when the distant sounds of running water draw me back to reality. I snap my eyes open and stare at the mess of crumpled sheets. A distorted rectangle of light streaming across the floor from the narrow crack of the half-open bathroom door grabs my attention as I shift on the mattress.

My cock is sensitive, legs and arms sore, head spinning from the sudden overload of sensations. The despicably dirty images of Hazel screaming my name and begging for more while I rammed into her from behind are sending cold shivers down my sticky back. God, she was so fucking tight and wet inside, almost brand new, never fucked that way before. I could tell by the way her body reacted. A wild animal, quivering beneath me, savagely crying and clawing through two years of pain.

I roll onto my back and stare at myriads of stars up above.

Fuck. This woman is something. I never thought she'd have this kinky side to her. But then again, the quiet ones are always like expensive, daring gifts; they’re elegant on the outside, yet you never know how scandalous they may be once you unwrap them.

The air in the bedroom smells of Hazel—vanilla, coconut, and sex. An odd combination of innocent and dirty. My cock twitches at the idea of fucking her a million other ways, the things I could do to her...the things I could make her feel.

A muffled sob that echoes through the walls of the bedroom starts tearing my sex fantasies apart. For a while after that, it's just water splashing before there’s another sob and then more. I lie there motionless, barely breathing, listening to the agonizing weeping that drifts from the shower. Part of me doesn't want to believe what I'm hearing, but the voice blending with the water that’s thumping against the tiles is Hazel's.

Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I sit up and wait a little longer. My chest constricts each time another sob ripples through the air. All sorts of ideas are burrowing their way into my head now, the one about me miscalculating my strength being the scariest one. She said she wanted it; she never asked me to stop. What the fuck do I do now?

My eyes register the mess of clothes on the floor— jeans, sweaters, boots, socks, and the ripped-to-shreds lingerie I gave her. This bedroom hasn't seen sex of that sort ever.

I get up from the bed and walk over to the bathroom. The frosted glass of the shower stall that’s filled with thick clouds of steam reveals only a vague silhouette of Hazel's body. Slumped shoulders shaking violently, head hanging low, loud sobs echoing off the walls. The heavy air makes it fucking hard to move, let alone breathe.

"Hazel?" I slide open the shower door. My eyes widen at the sight of her back, red streaks splayed across pale, silky skin. Any broken skin is mostly thin scratches, but there’s one tiny cut under her left shoulder blade.

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