His Pretty Little Burden (Kids of The District, #4)

by Nicci Harris

In a suit, the man is a powerhouse of intimidation, a handsome mystery, but in very little, he's... overwhelming, alarmingly breathtaking, masculine, sexy as sin, and if my brain blood wasn't between my legs right now, I would be able to think of other synonyms.

no less intimidating. Leaning back in one of those massive boss chairs with his tie loosened, his top button undone, his hair deliciously mussed, and the black veins of a tattoo peeking out from his chest, he looks decadent in the most indecent way. Kudos, Satan.

Twist your fingers. Curl them. Explore. When you find a little tongue inside you, rub it until you feel it beating back. That is where you will find your release.”

His eyes open. He drags my fingers slowly from his lips and smiles—a charming, dangerous curve that could cause nuns to simultaneously clutch their rosaries and drench their panties.

My mum once said, "We are all just atoms, no more superior than the dirt." Well, she never met Clay Butcher. Some things can't be explained in words. They need to be felt. And what I feel is that his atoms are far more superior than anyone else's. The Devil's prototype.

pant, face down, tears dripping from my eyes but not from sorrow. I'm all wrong. This is all wrong. Everything I want from him is all wrong. Then he lifts me from his lap, dipping down to scoop me up, and cradles me in his arms. He kisses my temple, and I think I might die, my heart skipping off its tracks, no longer on the same trajectory. Lost in him. "That's my good girl."

"We shouldn't be buying him anything. I'm not keeping him. I'm not made of the right stuff to be a mother. I don't even know how to cook." "You learn on the job, little deer," I state, my words forcing a shaky breath through her lips. "You have the luxury of time before you give birth. Use your time. Think hard about whether you want to give him up."

Something wars within him. "Fuck it," he hisses, yanking open the top button of his pants, dragging the zipper down, the sound resonating inside me like a drum counting down. My eyes widen. God... this is it.

"I'm already completely possessed by you, and I haven't even been inside you,"

"I need you to know that as soon as my cock enters your body, you belong to me. Not as a lover. Nothing that trivial. In every way. You won't like what that means... Tell me to stop."

“Well, yeah. I do. But it doesn’t scream Clay Butcher. It actually looks like it might be comfortable—shock horror. Quick get the kids into the shelter because the world must be coming to an end."

You are not a stray. You are owned. I warned you once to tell me to stop. I warned you what it meant to belong to me... True, I didn’t plan on keeping you then. I do now. There will be times when you hate me. For what I have to do. I am sure of it. That will change nothing between us. I want you to know that if you try to leave, I will hunt you down. I want you to find comfort in the fact that you have no choice. You are mine. Because ever since I laid eyes on you, sweet girl, that is the only place they have wanted to be.”

“I wish I was a dangerous person.” A grin coasts across his lips. “My affections for you make you the most dangerous girl in the country,” he states seriously, and I exhale, a flitter of contentment moving into my chest, finding comfort in his darkness. It is potent, that flitter, spreading out like stems, curling into each cell.

“You’re just as beautiful here when you’re bleeding as any other time. Do you think your blood makes you less appealing? It is very feminine.”

I want her ears honed to my timbre, her smile provoked by my mere presence, because she knows I’m the beginning, middle, and fucking end for her and I’m all that matters.

Clay... The most powerful man in the city is holding his pretty little burden. It's pathetic. The feel of him, though, douses the painful prickling of my skin.

ground. While the brutal scene takes place, I'm thinking about her sprinting into the pool, sinking to the concrete base, giving up. After all her fighting, after clawing through life to survive, for a moment, she was willingly drowning.

my chest pumping harder to draw in air. "You're not my pretty little burden, Fawn." He lifts my chin. "You're my pretty little queen."