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★★★★★THE BAD HUSBAND is a dark erotic freak-show filled with bloodied bread-crumbs★★★★★

Ben Rabinowski survived the world's very first entire head-transplant.

Though the operation was a huge success, his recovery leads him and his family into the dark past of Frank Ward, the head he now owns. Diabolical clues turn up and Ben spirals into the hellish past trying to take him over.

♥THE BAD HUSBAND♥ PART 2 IN THE HUSBAND SERIES

SNIPPET:

Who was he killing? Why was he killing? When and where was he killing?

Those questions were the new obsession and Cheryl was grateful Ben had something to think about besides having vicious sex with her.

C.A.L.M.

She wrote the acronym while changing positions in the chair. The deep ache in her vagina and butt made it hard to sit. The way he used his cock like a battering-ram felt as if he needed to break through her body.

He was getting more aggressive and she had to find a way to curb what was happening to him. Her own body showed signs of PTSD which would seem to indicate it interpreted his sex as traumatic. And yet, not once could she relive what he did without being aroused more than she’d ever thought possible. What he did to her during sex was not normal. It couldn’t be. She never would’ve thought it possible to have such hard and long orgasms. He was slowly changing her into something else, she could feel it. And she wasn’t sure if it was a good change or not. Her instincts said not. Nothing good could come out of that, surely.

To salvage whatever she could from the darkness they found themselves in was all she had going in the form of making a difference.

She underlined the CALM technique three times, willing it to be some kind of answer to the problem. But dramatically repeating his issue or his insanity back to him screamed bad idea. Like fanning a fire. His urges were conniving and sadistic, seeming to hunt for opportunities and weaknesses to exploit.

She had to talk to him. Get him to help. But he was like two people at war with themselves. When she explained things to him, the two forces sat there, looking at her. One listened to what she said, the other plotted how he might use it to get more of what he wanted in sex.

The sane side of him was still there, coming up with ways to solve the problem. But the desperate way that side acted felt like he knew time was short and any day now, he’d lose all control. And then what? It was like he knew he was slipping faster, and his frantic behavior made it harder to think around her own fears.

She’d have to leave if he lost himself. No, she’d have to have him put away because he was too dangerous. The idea to do that cut her heart wide open. A man like him without some kind of tether to sanity was purely evil. She was terrified of that part of him. All while clinging desperately to the husband who fought alongside her. She’d had such a brief time with that part of him. Hours. But they were the most amazing hours she’d ever had. She wanted them back. She wanted him back.

And now he was fidgety, anxious, paranoid. All the time. Only during sleep did he rest except on those nights he had nightmares that sent him flying out of the bed like somebody drowning. The last one ended with him drawing picture after horrific picture. Then he lined them up on the floor and studied them while jacking off and crying. She’d never been so terrified and heartbroken at once. The look on his face... horrified and appalled to the point of devastation that he would or could be aroused over such things. It was as if he was experiencing both sides of the crimes now. The perpetrator and the victims. It all made her need to touch him. But once she did, an explosive lust took him over and she became the only canvas he could bleed his insanity onto. And that was requiring more strength than she had to survive it.

If he wasn’t going to medicate, they needed something. Some kind of trick to prevent the triggers. Her being aggressive with him sexually was one such trick but it was a double-edged sword. When she used it, he seemed to want to reciprocate. Like the monster gave her permission just so it could have his.

“What are you doing?”

Cheryl yelped at Ben’s sudden presence behind her. His thumbs pressed into her shoulder blades and massaged deep and slow. She closed her eyes, focusing on controlling her fears. But anytime Ben touched, it meant more of the same was coming and where that ended only his insanity knew.

“I need to talk to you,” she announced with a bold frailty.

The sudden stilling of his hands on her shoulders made her heart hammer before they glided off with a rejection duly noted drag. “What is it?”

Sounded like concern in his soft words and she turned to see what was going on in his face. He was already heading to the bedroom window wearing nothing but nudity and a terrifying sex appeal. She had no idea his body possessed so much of it. “We have to find a way to…control your…”

“Abuse?” he helped, making her swallow.

She made her way slowly toward him.

“Don’t touch me,” he warned when she was still five feet off.

“I know,” she whispered.

“Do you,” he mumbled, staring out at the foggy morning. “I’d commit myself to the local psychiatric ward if I didn’t need to figure out what’s going on with our Mr. Friend.”

She turned and eyed the bed, making her way to it and sitting carefully.

“You know, ever since I learned I had a partner, I’ve wanted to find out everything about everything.”

“I know you do,” she said.

“But not for the reasons I should. But because I want in on it. Did he stop when I died? He better had,” I think to myself. “How dare he touch what’s mine to do? That’s what I think. And then…”

She swallowed as he lowered his head, shaking it.

“Then I can…feel.” His breaths shook in and out. “I can feel their pain, Cheryl,” he whispered. “And it…it hurts and…feels so good at the same time.” He gave several gasps. “I want to experience it firsthand and then…I want to find a way to cut my own head off because I can’t stand being this monster. And yet, I can think of nothing else.” He braced his palms on the window frame. “What happens when I kill you, Cheryl?”

“You won’t,” she whispered. “You’re getting stronger.”

He let out a dry, quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, I’m getting stronger, alright.” He glanced toward her, not looking at her. “Did I ever draw before this?”

“You were a draftsman but…nothing artistic. That I know of.”

“Did Frank draw?” he wondered, looking back out the window.

“What are you thinking?”

“I think I need answers. All of them,” he seethed now. “I need them like I need to kill. I can’t sleep, I can’t think of anything but these questions. Did he draw, did he take pictures? Did he dance, sing, listen to music?” He glanced toward her again. “I need to know where he stops, and I begin.”

“I can tell you anything about you,” she said. “We could start there.”

“When I’m looking at the pictures,” he went on. “That I draw…” His head barely shook like he was contemplating. “Something happens in my brain.”

She waited for him to explain.

“It’s…it’s working. Somehow.”

“Working, like…”

“Like figuring something out.”

“You think there’s something in the dreams you need to remember maybe?”

He dragged his hands down the window frame slowly. “I feel like Mr. Friend wasn’t a very good friend to Frank. That Frank didn’t just have an accident.”

“What?” Cheryl whispered.

“I think Frank was murdered for a reason.” He turned and her eyes sank to his enormous cock. “You look at my cock and it makes me need things, Cheryl,” he warned, sounding annoyed and disgusted with her.

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Ruin The Turning

“What are you doing?”
The hot need in Isadore’s raspy voice ignited the executing fire inside Ruin. He scooped her up in his arms and headed to the stairs. “I need… to love you.” Desire and need stole his ability to think and speak as he made his way to her bed.
“Love me?” she whispered, holding his face as he kissed her with more hunger than he’d ever felt.
“Yes,” he gasped, blazing kisses along her face, then jaw. “I need to love you… with all that I am. Right now.” He sucked hard on her neck and groaned when she pulled his hair and fought to get closer to him.
“Do it, yes, do it. I missed you.”
How long had they been apart? He wanted to ask but he needed to be buried inside her first, in every conceivable way. The assignment Caliber had programmed into him burned and gnawed over the left side of his chest. Or was that the agony of what he was assigned to do?
Ruin laid Isadore on the bed, fighting for air around the pressure in his being while stroking her face with one hand and yanking at her clothes with the other. She fought with his shirt and with one desperate thought, he disintegrated it.
Their bodies came together in a hot fervor of moans and clawing, biting and sucking. With all the need inside him, he thrust into Isadore’s body, drowning her cries with his hungry mouth, growling and grinding without stop, until she screamed his name the way he craved her to--desperate, intense, mind blowing.
“I love you,” he gasped, keeping his body sealed hard and tight to hers, never wanting to let up or let go as he emptied himself into her.
She was his. He was hers. And nobody… not even God would take her from him. Caliber’s assignment to kill the woman he loved was a declaration of war.

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14/12/2021 and 15/12/2021

MC and dark romance. I love the thrill, the sense of not knowing, the action, what one is capable of going through for love.

Thriller/dark; I love to see how one can thrive and how strong that survival instinct truly is!

I have had s chance to read some of the reviews and I really enjoy hearing other people's opinions and thoughts. It's interesting to see if they see it in a different way from myself, and things that I may have missed. This book has over 50 five star reviews already and I can completely see why. It's outstanding! I absolutely love it!

I've already fallen in love with this book and the characters! I have indeed been reading the snippets, and I am by far hooked! I would definitely help a stranger.