BLACK SHEEP IS LIVE!!
Ever since the day I was dropped at her family’s door
HUNGRY, DIRTY, and TORN,
I’ve wanted her.
But to taint her perfect skin with my black touch would be a SIN.
So I made a pact with myself—
NEVER TOUCH NICOLE PALMER.
However, when she returns home from college, she’s different, and I’m not sure I can trust myself to keep my pact. I can’t submit to her TEMPTATION no matter how sweetly she begs because she’s the GOLDEN CHILD and I’m the BLACK SHEEP.
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BE A WICKED BITCH!
HEAVEN AND HELL.
I’d crossed the holy pinnacle and entered a
place full of softness, light, and beauty, but while her hands on my skin felt
like a miracle, I also felt like my flesh was being ripped from my body.
Irrational fear struck me deep.
Nicole would never hurt me—at least not
physically. Mentally, she’d fucked me up over the last seven years, but she
didn’t know she was doing it.
Still, her mouth was heaven, and the devil
didn’t belong in Heaven—I didn’t belong in Paradise. I knew that, but my brain
ceased all functions the minute my lips touched hers.
I was beyond all rational thinking.
My lips brushed against hers.
Once.
Twice.
Before I moved in for more, losing myself
in her so completely, I forgot about her hands on me. I forgot she was touching my
scars inside and out—soothing them and breaking them open again all at the same
time. Her lips made me forget all the promises I’d made to myself over the
years—made me forget about the pact I’d made with myself.
Never touch Nicole Palmer.
Each strike of her hot breath against my
cheek was like an electric shock to my body,
and I couldn’t hold myself back any longer. Her frame felt even smaller than it
looked in my grasp when I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her to me. She
was soft against my hardness, limp in my arms as she let go with me.
I’d never felt anything like it. Usually, I pinned a girl’s arms above her head
to keep her from touching me. Typically,
I took control and remained in power, but when my tongue met hers, everything
inside me exploded.
Her soft, cautious touch changed, and she
clawed at me like a wildcat, tugging at my shirt and pulling me to her as if
she couldn’t get close enough.
She couldn’t.
She’d never be close enough.
And while her sudden movements and touches
were freaking me out, I wanted more.
I wanted to feel her all around me—beneath
me—inside me, lighting all the dark places where I hid my feelings for her—all
the dark places where the memories and monsters lived.
Her fingers no longer scared me … they
fueled me, forcing my black memories to the forefront and allowing her to
slowly destroy each one. She took away the pain and cleared my mind in the
strangest, most shocking way.
She tasted like sugar, like melted candy on my tongue as I
savored her. My craving for her, the one I’d tamed over the years, grew, as I pulled
her to me and thrust my hips. Seeking relief, I rubbed against her, her body
feeling better than anything I’d ever felt … even with our clothes between us.
I wanted her.
Hell, I’d always wanted her.
Over the years, in my mind,
every girl I’d climbed inside had been Nicole.
My Nicole.
The only girl to ever tame me, and she was clueless about it.
She was leaving me,
and I wasn’t taking it well. I hadn’t been okay with the situation since the
day she got her acceptance letter to Juilliard. She was a beautiful dancer, one
with grace and limbs that went for days, but knowing she was going to New York
alone left a sick feeling in my gut.
I couldn’t be there for her. I couldn’t protect her from the
sick and demented fucks in the world. I’d go wild thinking about the terrible
things that could happen to her while she was hundreds of miles away from me. And
while I knew how badly she wanted Juilliard, I also knew how badly I wanted
her. How badly the desire to keep her safe burned through me on a daily basis.
She reached between us, palming me through my jeans. Stopping
my thoughts completely, her touch caused me to release an agonizing growl into
her mouth. I’d had women … too many, actually, but none of them had ever
touched me this way. Their fingers had never graced my dick, no matter how
badly I wanted it. My mind would never allow it.
It was different with Nicole.
It had always been different with her.
My fingers covered hers, pressing her palm harder against me
as I thrust myself into her hand, seeking what I knew I could never have with
her. Every second I touched her, I darkened her with my shadowed sin.
Clarity broke through my lust and slammed into me. Tension
crawled down my back, tightening my spine and making my entire body stiffen.
It was wrong.
Everything we were doing was wrong.
Her mother and father had taken me in, made me a part of
their perfect family, and given me a life I would’ve never gotten without them.
If it weren’t for them, I would’ve grown up on the streets, begging for food
with only the clothes on my back, and this was how I was repaying them.
By touching their only daughter.
By tainting her with my blackness.
The broken sickness I was born with could be contagious, and
the last thing I ever wanted to do was pass it to her—contaminate her
perfection. If I ever climbed inside her, she’d never be the same. Her light …
I’d extinguish it, bringing her into my darkness. That was the last thing I
wanted since Nicole’s light had always been a beacon for me, leading me to do
the right thing when the right thing was the last thing I wanted to do.
Bad decisions were in my blood—passed down from a father who
ruined me—and touching Nicole was the worst decision I’d ever made. The
addiction was instant, and I knew one day I’d overdose on her. Just like my
father and his heroin except with more pleasure and more pain.
I pulled back, my body and heart feeling her loss the second
I pushed her away.
“Fuck!” I cursed, as I gasped and rubbed roughly at my lips,
trying to rid myself of her taste.
I’d never be able to walk away with her flavor on my lips.
My craving would never let it happen.
She moved toward me,
and I held my hand out to keep her away. I was too weak for her. I’d always
been too weak for her.
Her big blue eyes stared up at me, full of trust and lust.
Her white blond hair spilled from her bun, curtaining her beautiful face and
skimming her flawless skin. She was everything, and I was nothing. The two
could never mix.
Rage and disgust slammed into me.
How could I touch her?
How could I taint her
perfection with my sin?
“That shouldn’t have
happened,” I breathed, trying to catch the air she’d stolen away from me.
“Why not?” she asked, her cheeks flushed
and her lips reddened from my rough kisses.
I hated myself for marring her delicate flesh with my touch. She was too good, too
perfect for anyone, especially me.
“Because I don’t want you that way!” I
yelled, not thinking of who else could hear our conversation.
It
was the biggest fucking lie I’d ever told…
About Gena Showalter:
