Page 42 of Violent Reign (Violent Kingdom)

I wait for him to shout, to growl, to pull out a gun. But instead something soft and light hits the floor.

And then something slightly heavier, with a metallic clink.

Horror presses out at my rib cage. Rosaline hasn’t stopped fucking me. Is she really willing to die like this? I guess she is.

Footsteps, and then...

Tyler climbs onto the bed.

He spreads his legs wide over mine and what the fuck, what the fuck is he doing? Rosaline bends forward and kisses my chest. When she tries to sit up again Tyler stops her. “Stay down. You know better than that.”

Better than that?

He’s mostly blocked from view by Rosaline’s body but I hear him spit, and then she whimpers against my chest. “Too big, Tyler, too big—”

He rewards her with a slap on the ass. Rosaline writhes against me, her body going hotter, her nails digging into my flesh, and then I feel it.

The pressure of another cock through Rosaline’s thin walls. She gasps out loud, gritting her teeth, and digs herself into me. Tyler’s hands appear on the sides of her hips, holding her down. Her hips make tiny, frantic circles over my cock. She lets out a howl and then I know—I know in the absolute worst of ways—that Tyler is fully seated in her ass.

“Be good,” he snaps at her, and apparently this means that Rosaline should be still while he fucks her. While he fucks her hard. While he fucks her so hard she cries, her tears dripping onto my skin. She tries her best to angle herself so that her clit can get some attention while he’s driving into her and after a minute her eyes roll back and Rosaline comes on my dick. With Tyler in her ass. With me handcuffed to the bed.

“My turn,” Tyler says, and he pins her down harder, pushing her head so her cheek is flush against my chest. From this angle, he can look right into my eyes. He pins me with his gaze and doesn’t look away. He doesn’t even fuckingblinkas he groans, emptying himself into Rosaline’s ass. I want to be sick. I want to murder them both with my bare fucking hands.

Tyler pulls out of Rosaline, and she collapses on my chest with relief. I can barely breathe, but it’s not because of her weight. She’s as light as a feather. No, I can barely breathe because the rage inside me is so thick, so visceral, that I can barely see straight. Tyler climbs off the bed and retrieves his pants, stepping into them as he continues to stare me down.

“Your wife sucks cock like a fucking champ,” Tyler says, and if I thought I was angry before? Now, I’m incandescent. I’m shaking with the velocity of my rage. My teeth grind together in my mouth as Tyler keeps talking.

“I only got to fuck her once,” he says. “On account of her condition. But her mouth still works just fine.”

Her condition? “What condition?” I demand.

Tyler grins cruelly. “Oops. I’ve said too much. Rosie, hurry up and get out here, we’ve got shit to do.”

Tyler leaves the room, the door banging loudly as he slams it behind him.

“What condition?” I ask Rosaline. She stares dreamily at me, tracing love hearts on my chest. “Hey!” I growl. “What condition?”

The dreamy smile on Rosaline’s face fades, as she sits up slightly, her face hovering over mine.

“She’s pregnant,” Rosaline says sadly. “With Nathan’s baby. That spoiled bitch. She gets all the nicest things.”

Avery is pregnant. And I just want to die.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

ROME

I’m so hungry…so thirsty… so fucking tired, that eventually I fall into a restless sleep, Rosaline snuggled in beside me on the narrow single bed.

I snap back into consciousness at some point later. I hold my breath so I can listen for Tyler in the room. Nothing. He’s not here.

Rosaline sleeps curled up on my chest, her hair tickling my face and something else resting lightly on my shirt. What the hell is it? If I crane my neck enough, I can see it.

Keys. The keys to my handcuffs. Holy fuck. My heart beats in a wild, hopeful rhythm and I take several deep breaths to calm the hell down. If I can get to that necklace I can get out of here.

She shifts her hips from side to side, waking up slowly. A low-pitched whine seeps out from behind her closed lips. Then another one. She bucks her hips against mine but there’s not much I can do other than lay here.

Or is there?

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