Caroline*****The first thing I noticed was the lingering soreness of my thighs and pelvis. Grimacing, I stretched through the pain.My right hand searched through the sheets. Finding only coolness, I leaned over and reached further. The emptiness struck me and I frowned. My eyes reluctantly peeled open to look around. Marshall wasn't in bed. His side was stone cold, as though he hadn't been here for a while. I didn't hear him moving around in the bathroom either. I sat up and instantly gasped at the spasm of pain in my thighs. Gritting my teeth, I threw the covers off of me. My breath caught.My abdomen and thighs were littered with hickeys and bruises. The man did a toll on my body last night. As soon as I agreed to marry him, it was like a switch flipped. He took me again in the bed a few times, then against the vanity in the bathroom, and twice more in the kitchen. I couldn't escape his massive cock or greedy fingers or ravenous lips. And because I was a little fucked in the
Marshall*****I was still in the depths of sleep when the shrill ring of my cell phone pierced through my dreams of a beautiful blonde girl with kind eyes.Sighing, my hand extended to the nightstand where my phone was plugged in. I popped the cord out and sat up. I saw it was Nuel and cursed, shoving the sheets off of me."What?" I answered. My eyes flicked to the lump on the other side of the bed. Caroline remained peacefully asleep. I reached over to caress the curve of her side before stopping myself. I didn't want to wake her, especially given how late I'd kept her up.My fiancé. I still couldn’t believe she said yes, that it was official. I never once in my life imagined I would get married—certainly not of my own volition. She was the only person I knew capable of changing my mind. I was a stubborn fucker. But I also wasn’t willing to lose her.I'd have to make time today to get her a ring. I wanted to get her something special and meaningful. But also something fucking hug
Caroline*****My eyes were physically out of tears. They felt heavy and almost itchy from their dryness. I wished I could just close my eyes and rest them, but sleep was impossible.I glanced over at Uncle Sam, who was sitting in the driver's seat. He was staring at the road and didn't respond to my lingering gaze. We hadn't spoken much since he picked me up at the foot of Marshall's driveway. It certainly wasn't out of lack of interest on my part.I had so many questions about Marshall, about the FBI, about Freya's murder and my parents' death, and Sam's role in all of this. I just didn't have the heart to ask anymore. Only hours ago, Sam picked me up and brought me to a discreet FBI checkpoint in town where I was told by agents that Marshall was the leader of the Persian mafia. They'd been trying to catch him on drug charges for years now but had been unsuccessful in penetrating his ring. They told me it was extremely likely he was responsible for the death of my parents and tha
Caroline*****Tiny red lights glowed under the burning pile of logs. They kinda looked like small stars exploding in slow motion. Or maybe that was the bud talking.I blinked as someone jostled me in the shoulder."Here."Sighing, I turned my head to Freya holding out a brown glass bottle towards me. I grabbed it and flashed her a small smile."Hanging in there, kiddo?" she asked."Mhmm." I nodded and brought the bottle to my lips, dipping my head back.The cold, wheaty liquid slid over my tongue and down my throat. It burned in the pit of my empty stomach and I imagined the tiny red stars exploding inside my organs."Yeah." She dropped onto the Adirondack chair beside me and kicked her bare feet up onto the stone pit.I leaned back and moved to drop my own feet up but suddenly spotted the gleam from my glossy black heels. My throat tightened. When I tried to swallow, it felt like a rock was lodged in my esophagus. I didn't realize I was crying until I felt something drip onto my han
Caroline ***** I stayed in bed until eight. The house kept me company for hours, soothing my insomnia with its settling creaks. At the sound of beeping in the kitchen, I roused myself from beneath the warm sheets. Once I'd moved the chair back to its place, I padded out to the kitchen. The delightful smell of hot coffee tickled at my nose. I relaxed a bit when I realized it was only Freya in the kitchen. She smiled at me and set her phone down. "Coffee, kiddo?" I nodded with a small smile. While she poured the black liquid into a mug and fetched milk from the fridge, I debated whether to tell her about Valentina. I didn't want to offend her but I decided she should at least be aware. "Thanks," I said as she handed me the mug. "I, um, think I have something to tell you." Freya raised her brows and blew on her steaming mug. "What's up?" "Well . . . I . . . Valentina . . ." I swallowed. This was harder than I thought. Why couldn't I just tell her? Now my cousin was frowning. "He
Marshall Brown ***** Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Numbers! They were all just a bunch of nonsensical, disorganized digits. I breathed out again, this time making a loud rasp. "Fucking damn it," I snarled, jumping out of my chair. My hands dragged through my hair, which was already very tousled. It seemed all I could do today was curse at my desktop and imagine her angelic face and all the expressions I wanted to paint on it. Her lips were so delicate and the cutest shade of pink. I wondered if she normally wore that chapstick. I wondered what it tasted like. I audibly groaned at how uncomfortably my pants strained around my hardened dick. Clenching my jaw, I strolled over to the window and placed an open palm along its cool surface. I was never this frustrated. I didn't let things bother me. Because why should they? I couldn't give a flying fuck about what people thought or did. If someone else's actions impacted me, I dealt with them and moved on. I didn't get frustrated. M
Caroline*****I stood at the full-length mirror behind the door and glanced over my outfit. Skinny cut jeans and a black turtleneck sweater and tall leather boots. My hair was tied into a ponytail at the crown of my head and the long blonde strands fell over my shoulder. Sighing, I adjusted my glasses and turned away from the mirror. As I walked down the hall towards the living room, I could almost hear Uncle James talking to me. He'd be sitting in a robe in his recliner with the newspaper on his lap and a mug of black coffee in hand.Peering over a pair of bifocals, he was saying, "Those jeans are awfully tight. Are you trying to get boys to look at your ass? And what is that under your shirt? A push-up? Go change."The memory hit me so strongly that I was startled at the sight of Freya leaning against the kitchen island. She was tapping away on her phone and shot me a quick smile."Coffee's in the pot and there's milk in the fridge," she said.I walked past the brewing machine and
Marshall*****My muscles cramped with exhaustion as I sat outside in my car, struggling to keep my eyes open. It had been a long week. A pain in my ass kind of week, too.We had recovered the damaged goods from the attack and I'd managed to get the local police off my back. Barely. They were persistent fuckers. The driver was still in my basement, though hardly alive at this point.Today, I couldn't give less of a fuck. Not about that guy or anybody else. I sat in my car and occasionally lifted my head to look through the heavily tinted windows. I could tell when classes were changing or lunch was out, since kids would flow out of the red brick monolith. Otherwise, the school was dead from the outside.This wasn't my first day. I knew when to expect my angel. She walked to and from this building every weekday at the same time. Ear buds in, feet at the ground. She never noticed me and I doubted she ever would.This morning, she walked out of the decrepit little house in skinny jeans a