Page 158 of The Invite
One brutal thrust after another.
I was wrong; this is him unleashed.
His grip tightens, lightly choking me but not enough to cut off my air. “Look. At. Me.”
A blurry image of his rugged face appears and it takes me a second to realize it’s because of my tears. Without breaking our connection, he withdraws and plunges back in. I can’t look away, caught in his spell. Instead, I clutch his biceps, scratching my nails down the taunting snake while he slams and slams and slams into me.
Resting his forehead against mine, he harshly claims, “You’re mine, little prey.”
My gaze drops to his mouth, dark with hints of scarlet. I lean forward and lick his bottom lip before he can stop me.
He thrusts harder in retaliation, shunting me up the couch.
I lick my lips, taunting him as I hum at the taste of him.
His jaw constricts, nostrils flaring. This time there’s no mistaking he’s choking me for real because my vision blurs. His cock doesn’t stop drilling, swelling even more. My clit rejoices every time his groin grinds against me, creating delicious friction.
The safe word is on the tip of my tongue when my orgasm barrels through me. “August! August! August!”
I chant and forget about everything.
Floating and boneless on a cloud.
I don’t even feel his teeth bite down above my breast, breaking the skin as he finishes right after me. He may have claimed me.
ButI’veclaimed him right back.
CHAPTER – 39
Augustus
Nobody except my parents—not even Scarlett—knows I was born with a defective heart. A hole that affected my growth during the first two years of my life until the doctors found it.
Did they fix it?
In the physical sense—yes.
But not without invisible irreparable damage. In the place I was supposed to recognize and express emotions, I got a hole. The hollowness could never be filled.
I never reacted the way I was supposed to. I know this because I observed Scarlett. She behaved and whined like every other kid. In school, I’d watch her trying to make friends, getting butthurt if they would rebuff her, while I never felt the urge to mingle with the other students. I didn’t understand why Scarlett would even want to hang out with the kids who weren’t interested in being her friend.
It was when my parents got called into the school and were told I didn’t interact with anyone from the class that had me wondering if there was something vital missing inside me. A constant blankness wrapped itself around me. I didn’t mind it but obviously, it was an issue for the rest of the world.
My mother insisted on therapy and all that jazz while my dad was vehemently against it. The reason is still unknown to me. In a way, I’m grateful he didn’t side with my mother because the thought of a stranger poking and trying to pick apart my brain to understand why I didn’t fit in the mold of a ‘normal’ kid drives me berserk.
Rather than going with my mother’s route, my dad sat me down and said, “You don’t need fixing, son. We just need to find the thing that makes your heart go boom.”
I can still hear his voice whispering in my ear, his kind eyes staring down at seven-year-old me with all the adoration in the world.
He accepted I was different and wanted me to embrace it.
Every weekend, he decided we’d pick and do one activity together despite his busy schedule. He not only wanted me to choose a hobby that ignited a spark but also to teach me how to bond. I didn’t know if it was going to work or not, because spending time with him was all that mattered to me. His utmost belief never wavered, and his patience never ran thin as I explored. One day we were strolling in the park with the discreet bodyguards nearby when we came across a sketch artist painting people’s portraits. I remember tugging on my father’s hand in that direction because I wanted to watch closely. As soon as we neared, I felt it for the first time.
The tiny burst of explosion inside my chest.
Rather than the void.
I stared raptly at the stroke of the man’s hand on the canvas, shaping the couple’s features as they stood in frontof him. When I briefly glanced over at my father’s face, his expression was one of pure joy with a sheen in his eyes. Again, his onslaught of emotions perplexed me.
