Branded Read Online Saffron A. Kent

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Contemporary, Dark, Virgin Tags Authors: Saffron A. Kent Advertisement

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Rougher.

Angrier.

So do the noises I make, my breaths, my need to brand her. And before I know it I’m coming. I’m spurting all over her white panties, her creamy thighs, my hand. My chest shudders and my muscles spasm. I feel like I can finally breathe now that I see my cum striping her skin, soaking her little panties.

But only for a moment.

The next breath I take, I’m full of guilt. I’m full of regret and anger that never seem to go away, no matter what I do. She was right when she told me that revenge won’t give me peace. But I’m not doing this for peace, am I? I’m doing it to avenge. I’m doing it to avenge the girl I failed to protect.

Annie.

Disgusted, I move away from the Turner girl and throw open the window before sitting on the floor under it. These days, I need an open window to breathe and hardness that reminds me of my cell, the only thing familiar in this new world, to navigate.

I fish out the marriage certificate from my pocket, unfold it, and take in her signature. Her curly, feminine, familiar handwriting. So familiar that I’d recognize it anywhere. And in that handwriting, she’s written a name, or a semblance of a name, that I don’t recognize.

R Bell.

I don’t give a fuck what that stripper’s real name was.

But I do wanna know why my wife signed our marriage certificate with a name I’ve never heard before.

HE’S THE REASON.

That we left the ranch all those years ago.

Isn’t he?

I thought about it after the courtroom. I thought about what he said in the car, about his crime, about him trying to kill Peyton’s father. I couldn’t put it together before—probably because I was out of my mind with fear—but it all adds up now.

Eight years ago, we left the ranch abruptly, Peyton and her mom, and my mom and me. I remember we were at camp when we got the call that we had to cut it short and leave. And that we weren’t going home but somewhere else. They told us there was an attack at the ranch. That someone broke in and beat Peyton’s father within an inch of his life. They said he had every intention of killing Mr. Turner, but someone heard noises coming out of the mansion and called the cops.

They also said he wore a mask, a bull mask with horns.

Peyton was understandably upset. She never liked her father, but someone trying to kill him was an extreme she couldn’t have imagined herself.

But me; like a traitor, I was happy. Not because Peyton’s father and my parents’ employer was almost killed but because we finally had the chance to move away from my daddy. I was happy that maybe now my mother would be safe from him and his fists, his cruelty. So while Peyton hated the masked man who came to kill her father, I didn’t. I saw him as a savior. I know it’s fucked up. I know what an epic betrayal of Peyton this is.

I know that.

Not only did that man try to kill my best friend’s father, but he was probably from the Rawhide ranch. The family that’s full of criminals and bad men. The family that as part of the Grayson clan, I’m supposed to hate.

Even though no one told us that specifically, that the man who broke in was a Grayson, Peyton and I could both figure it out. Peyton’s mom tried to keep us away from the news, too, citing that it would have a harmful effect on us. But Peyton, as always, didn’t follow the rules. She tried to find everything she could about the trial, the man who was arrested. She never shared any of this with me, though. She thought I was too fragile, and I let her believe that. But I wasn’t too fragile.

I was too invested in him.

I already wanted to know everything about him, about the man who got us away from my daddy’s evil clutches. Who saved my mother. Who saved me. Not that moving away made much of a difference. My father was still very much a part of my mother’s life if he wanted to be.

But the point is that he’s the one. He’s the one who saved me.

The one in the mask, the man I think of as my hero.

I don’t know how to feel about that. I don’t know how to even begin to comprehend what it means. That the same man who saved me years ago is the man who’s been lying to me for the past six months. I’ve dreamed about two men in my life, and turns out, both of them are one and the same.

My asshole criminal cowboy. My husband.

No, not my husband. He just thinks he’s my husband and I’m his wife. And if I have my way, he’ll never find out the truth. It’s more imperative now than ever. Especially after I know what he’s capable of. Beating a man half to death and stabbing a cop in a courtroom; having his shooter friend at his beck and call, ready to kill people.

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