San Francisco is going to burn if the coveted princess of California’s criminal underworld isn’t returned to her family in one piece …
Avery Capulet is missing.
Taken by a madman. Kept in the dark.
She might not survive.
He’ll use her body. Destroy her mind. All before he ever lays a hand on her.
Rome Montague is a drug dealer. A criminal. A thief.
And he needs the secrets Avery and her family are keeping – even if it means cutting them out of her pretty Capulet flesh.
Rome Montague is missing – but nobody will miss him.
Not that it matters; After the things he’s done to this girl, he doesn’t deserve to be found.
Prepare to step into the dark and bloody underworld of California, as Lili St. Germain brings you a modern retelling of Romeo and Juliet, in the same vein as her bestselling Gypsy brothers series.
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🖤 AVERY 🖤
My father’s words come back to haunt me as I shiver in the cold darkness: You can be married to one man and in love with another.
If there’s one thing I know about Will, it’s that he’s too proud to be somebody’s dirty secret. The only reason he’s my dirty secret now is because I’ve promised him things in the dark that I’ll never be able to give him in the light of day.
Things he deserves. A wife who loves him. Babies, made with love, in a bed in a house, not made in a fucking cemetery or during a secret tryst. Emotion threatens to consume me, to turn my lustful pants into full-on sobs, but I push my tears down. If he sees me losing my mind, the gig is up.
Not yet. We need more time.
“Fuck me,” I pant, when he pulls out of my mouth.
“I thought you’d never ask,” Will deadpans, letting go of my hair and putting his hands under my shoulders, yanking me to my feet. His cock is a rod of molten steel pressed between us as he moulds his hips to mine. He fuses my mouth with his, his body covering mine, and he tastes so fucking good, I can’t bear it.
Am I ever going to kiss him again?
He fumbles in his pocket, producing a foil packet that he rips open with his teeth. I watch as he rolls the condom on, pressing my thighs together to try and ease the throb between them a little, when I grab Will’s wrist.
“No condom,” I blurt out. “Just us.”
Will laughs. “Don’t joke.”
His smile disappears as he sees I’m serious.
I take my hand from his wrist and start to pull the condom from his cock, breathing nervously. I’ve never had sex without protection before. It was something drilled into my head when I was twelve years old, the day I got my first period. My father sat me down and explained the birds and the bees - in all it’s clinical, anatomically correct, sometimes horrifying detail for a child to understand. I remember sitting on my hands in the chair across his desk, my stomach cramping painfully from my first ever bleed, wishing my mother were alive to soften the blow of becoming a woman. I’ll never forget Daddy sliding a carton of condoms across the table as he told me he knew he couldn’t stop me from having sex — but if I ever came home pregnant, I would have to have surgery to get rid of the baby. He told me all about that, too. Girls in our family who get pregnant before they’re supposed to, or to boys they’re not going to marry, get abortions.
Will knows this. He got the same talk from my father when we started dating. We hadn’t even held hands and my father was threatening to cut his dick off if he ever put it in me without a rubber firmly wrapped around it.
There really are no boundaries the men in my family won’t cross to keep decorum.
Will and I have done just abut everything. He’s a filthy boy, and I’m a dirty girl. But we’ve never, ever, not even for a second, been skin on skin like that.
Before I can get the condom all the way off, Will grabs my wrist, moving my hand away from him. I reach for him again and he smacks my hand away. The next thing I know, his fingers are sliding along my drenched pussy, and then he’s pushing them inside, three fingers, all the way to the knuckle. I gasp at the unexpected penetration, my hands clutching at the edge of the altar, a moan escaping my lips.
A moment later he presses his thumb against my clit and starts to rub it, rough and insistent, as he fucks me with his hand.
“Wider,” he says, kicking the inside of my foot with his, forcing my legs further apart so he can go deeper.
“No talking,” he cuts me off, pumping his fingers harder. I can hear how wet I am, because my arousal makes an audible noise every time he moves his fingers inside me.
“There are only two reasons you would let me fuck you bare,” he continues, his thumb so insistent against my clit that I’m almost coming on his hand. I’m struggling to catch up. Will’s an excellent lover, but he’s not usually like this.
“Reason one,” he grinds out. “Your father finally decided to let you marry my dumb ass.”
“Will, please,” I beg. I’m not even sure what I’m begging for - him to let me talk, or let me have my orgasm, or for him to fuck me?
“I said. No. Talking.”
He wraps one hand around my throat and squeezes, not hard enough to scare me, but enough to reduce my air supply to the bare minimum. Will keeps thrusting into me with his fingers, bringing me close to breaking point. I pant against his chokehold, taking tiny sips of air as my head begins to spin, my hips mimicking his movements as my body cries for release.
“Reason two,” he continues, anger rolling off him in waves. “Your father finally decided to make you marry that fucking creep who’s been following you around since you were a kid.”
His eyes tell me he already knows the answer. He swallows with difficulty, looking up at the ceiling for a moment. His fingers loosen around my throat, his other hand gone from between my thighs.
“You’re my girl,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. When he looks back at me, his hazel eyes are shining. “I’m not letting him do this to us, Aves.”
I fear what my father will do to Will if he sees him as a threat to his grand plans.
My father has had people killed for less. Much, much less. I’ve loved Will since I was sixteen years old. And the last thing I want to do is be the reason he ends up dead in a hit-and-run, or from a mysterious overdose, or just plain disappears, never to be seen again.
I know what the Capulets are capable of doing in the name of blood.
“I have to,” I whimper. “I’m sorry.”
“You will be,” Will snaps. “Take your dress off.”
I unzip my dress and push it down over my hips, letting it pool on the floor like a dark puddle around my feet. I’m completely naked now, my nipples so hard they ache, my body desperately craving to be filled.
Will dips his head, pressing his forehead against mine as he reaches between us. He’s still hard, the head of his cock purple with need.
“Wrap your legs around me,” Will murmurs, ripping the condom off and dropping it on the floor.
He lets go of my throat and uses both of his hands to grab my ass, lifting me in the air. My pussy rubs against his cock as he carries me three steps, slamming me against the mausoleum wall.
Holding me against the wall with one hand under my ass and the weight of his body to pin me still, he used his other hand to guide himself to my entrance. I don’t think I’ve ever been so naked, so desperate, so fucking turned on.
“I’m not letting him take you away from me,” Will says through gritted teeth, pushing into me. It’s different like this, skin on skin. It’s never felt this good before.
“I’m sorry,” I say again, screaming as he seats himself in one violent thrust.
Will pulls back, gripping my chin with his thumb and forefinger, his skin hot, the room cold. “Avery,” he says, and then something clicks for him. He sees it in my face. He knows I’m not going to fight for him, at least not in the way he wants me to.
He knows I’m going to marry Joshua.
And the rage inside him, when he realises this, needs somewhere to go.
I open my mouth to explain, but Will clamps a hand over my face. His gaze is like fire, and in that moment, it’s like he sees everything I’ve ever kept from him in one devastating flash. I hear his teeth grind together, his jaw straining as he searches for my eyes. Is he looking for hope? For something to redeem me?
Whatever it is he’s looking for, he obviously doesn’t find it. He takes his hand away from my mouth slowly, his intent clear: Don’t speak.
So I don’t. I stay silent, watching him, both of us still breathing heavily, me still impaled on his cock, wet and needy and trying desperately to stop my hips from the shallow thrusts they seem to be doing of their own accord, as my body tries to draw him deeper. Even physically, I feel like I’m losing him.
“Will,” I sob.
His expression turns to pure rage, but I’m not afraid. Not when he takes my wrists in his hands and pulls them down by my sides. He makes a low sound in his throat, almost a growl, as he smashes my wrists against the hard marble wall. It hurts, shock waves of pain lancing from my wrists through my body. I choke on a moan as Will’s fingers return to my throat and squeeze again.
“I love you,” Will says, choking me as he rears back, almost pulling out of me. “But I fucking hate you, Avery.”
He slams into me on the word hate, and I’d scream again if he weren’t choking me. He must realize I’m on the verge of passing out, because he lets go of my throat, returning his palm to my mouth. Every time he fucks into me, it’s brutal. Painful. Carnal. He’s hurting me, but I don’t want him to stop. I want him to fuck me like this until it kills us both.
I’m so wet. He’s so violent. Every time he thrusts, I’m on the brink of coming.
“Don’t you dare come until I say so,” he says, his eyes locked on mine. “I’m not done with you yet.”
A small whine of protest escapes my throat before I can tamp it down. I’m so close it aches, even though the hard wall behind me makes my back hurt, the bite of pain distracting enough to stop me from fully letting go.
“Is this how Daddy’s little whore wants to be fucked?” he asks. “In the dark, against the wall, like a fucking slut?”