Wrath (Malice Mafia, #2)

by Coralee June

know every fucking nuance of your body, Juliet. I know your mind. In fact, I’ve crawled inside every fucking crack in your soul and built a home for myself there.

There was just so much fucking hard work involved. Since I had to be everything for everyone all the time, there was seemingly nothing left for

Would you rather drag a broken man back to his dungeon, or welcome a healed man back into your arms?”

And with those parting words, he spun around, grabbed my cart, and strolled toward the checkout counter like he didn’t just finger fuck me on aisle nine.

He was praying at the altar of my cunt, worshiping my pleasure, drawing out every offering of my slick need with swift, intense licks of his tongue.

You seem to think that is none of my business, and I think every bit of your existence on this spinning rock in space is my business.”

My dick wanted to live inside of her.

He was wearing gray sweatpants, which was basically him begging Juliet to look at his junk.

William ran a hand through his hair, the move making the hem of his shirt lift a bit. She licked her lips like a starving street cat staring at a bowl of cream and sugar. Fucking gray sweatpants at it again. I made a mental note to buy a pair.

“I have a friend looking into the autopsy report, but it all adds up,” she replied. Friend? What kind of friend? Did this friend have a penis? I made a mental note to kill this friend.

I loved them. Deeply. Irrevocably. But I loved myself, too.

Blood was thicker than water and stronger than resentment, I suppose.

“Why are you here, Anthony?” Do you think Norman and I are similar? Certainly I’m saner than he is, right? I’m fishing for validation here, friend. The least you can do is tell me I’m not on the same level as a fucking cannibal.