KASMINE.
He tasted like sin—dark, forbidden, and impossibly addictive. He was like every dark thoughts I'd ever had. How could something so forbidden be this addictive?
I should hate myself for this. I should feel shame curling in my stomach, twisting my insides. But instead, all I felt was heat. A deep, smoldering ache that refused to be ignored.
I was conflicted. But my desires were becoming stronger than my conflicts. Desire had a cruel way of twisting my reality, making the forbidden feel like the only thing that made sense.
Kester was a god—of sin, of pleasure, of ruin. And I had let him destroy me in the most devastating way possible.
He f****d like a god – like he owned me. And maybe he did.
Any woman would kill to have this.
Every part of me still throbbed with the memory of
