Wicked Angel (The Wicked Horse Vegas, #7)

First there was pain, and now there is just… nothing. No one can ever understand the losses I’ve suffered. A solitary existence that consists of my work and the empty house that serves as a constant reminder of all I have lost.

After months of paralyzing emptiness, I turn to The Wicked Horse so I can feel something. Anything, really. Any shred of emotion that will explain why I’m still here. Any justification for why my life was spared and theirs were not.

It’s all in vain. Not even the debauchery of the notorious sex club can fill the hollowness that consumes me.

Until she walks in.

Absolutely perfect. Gorgeous and bends to my will. Gives me her body willingly, while expecting nothing more from me than the pleasure I offer her. And the more she gives, the more I find myself wanting to take.

Wanting to crawl out of my personal hell for this wicked angel.