Make Me (The Silent Hollow, #2)

by Alina May

Does my boy have a sensitive tummy? I snort. My boy. Sounds like I want him. I mean more in a he’ll-be-mine-when-I-drain-the-life-out-of-him kinda way.

I mark Ronan’s bed. This is mine now. He’s mine now. Everything about him is mine. I toss the pillow back over my cum. Ronan is mine to break. Mine to torture. Mine to play with. And when I’m done making him pay for reminding me of what I can’t have, he’ll be mine to kill.

all I can think is to sing Sweet Home Alabama in my skivvies so my brains don’t get splattered across the wall behind me.

“That’s a good boy. Grit your teeth for your master.” Immediately,

“You suffer so sweetly for me.”

That would mean a murderer who kidnapped me because I look like his ex just asked me if I wanted cuddles.

“My name…” I avoid saying the s. I can’t stutter. “Dakota.” “But you make such a cute little bear cub.” Logan’s voice is a purr in my ear.

“Lick my feet. Worship me like the disgusting little slut that you are.”

It’s time to kill a man with my boyfriend and our lapdog.

“Look at both of my sluts.” Logan draws his hand back, raising it to slap Ronan on the ass again. In the spot that’s starting to bruise. Ronan nearly bites down on my dick, and I hiss. Logan tosses us a smirk. “Such good sluts for daddy.” Right

turn it over to see the label has been scribbled out, and in its place is written “weenie drizzle.” I snort. Oh, this fucker thinks he has jokes. Upon closer examination, I see that the syrup has sparkles in it. It’s glittery weenie drizzle.

Suddenly, I hear the garage opening. I sniff back my tears because I gotta keep up my image. Gangsters don’t cry and all that.