Aero Quotes

The word aerobics comes from two Greek words: aero, meaning “ability to,” and bics, meaning “withstand tremendous boredom.

The word aerobics comes from two Greek words: aero, meaning “ability to,” and bics, meaning “withstand tremendous boredom

What’s the meaning of life?” Cole tried. “There is no inherent meaning,” Aero replied. “All significance is constructed.

My heart was light, quick, like an aero, and carrying, carrying me upward. I knew: tomorrow held some sort of joy. But what would it be?

Why? But why don't we have feathers? Or Wings? Nothing but the shoulder blades where wings would be attached? Why, because we no longer need wings. We've got aeros. Wings would only be in the way. Wings are for flying, but we have nowhere to fly to, we've already flown there, we've found it.

Freedom and crime are so indissolubly connected to each other, like... well, like the movement of the aero and its velocity. When the velocity of the aero = 0, it doesn't move; when the freedom of a person = 0, he doesn't commit crime. This is clear. The sole means of ridding man of crime is to rid him of freedom.

if the speed of an aero equals zero, the aero is motionless; if human liberty is equal to zero, man does not commit any crime. That is clear. The way to rid man of criminality is to rid him of freedom.

Freedom and crime are linked as indivisibly as... well, as the motion of the aero and its speed: when its speed equals zero, it does not move; when man's freedom equals zero, he commits no crimes. That is clear. The only means of ridding man of crime is ridding him of freedom.

Destroy my purity, Aero. Dirty me with your demons.

I'm tired of the music industry these days! They polish everything until it no longer sounds real. The raw uncut sound is something I think no genre but alternative and Aerow music retain.

The Impossible Dream": The song I hear in my head whenever life throws me a major crisis.

Do you know this feeling? When you're in an aero speeding up through a blue spiral, the window open, the wind whistling, and there's no earth, you've forgotten the earth, the earth is just as far from you as Saturn or Jupiter or Venus? That's how I'm living now. The wind is in my face and I've forgotten the earth, I've forgotten about dear rosy O. But earth exists all the same, and sooner or later I've got to glide down and land on it and I'm just shutting my eyes to the day on my Sexual Table with O-90's name on it...

Aerow creates a drawn out sense of pressure with the use of rather simplistic. Quite frankly, [the music] is fantastic.

The raw and natural sounds of Aero music don't subtract from it's beauty, instead it creates a rich soundscape for the musician to create within.

You, Aero, are the throat from which I’ve been allowed to scream,

Saint is kissing the lips that were just coated in Aero.

I wanted sin. And I wanted it with him. Aero is my stalker.

You, Aero, are the throat from which I’ve been allowed to scream … But I’m the eyes through which you’ll finally realize your worth.

I may wish to return to my home in England, and I stand in New York, but ever since I was born I have been bound to this earth by a law that I have never been able to break--the law of gravity. I am told, however, that there is another law, a higher law, the law of aero-dynamics, and if only I will be willing to commit myself in total trust to this new law, then this new law will set me free from the old law. By faith I step into the plane, I sit back in the rest of faith, and as those mighty engines roar into life, I discover that the new law of aero-dynamics sets me free from the law of gravity.

. Freedom and crime are linked as indivisibly as ... well, as the motion of the aero and its speed: when its speed equals zero, it does not move; when man's freedom equals zero, he commits no crimes. That is clear. The only means of ridding man of crime is ridding him of freedom.

Why? And why do we have no feathers, no wings - just shoulderblades alone - the seating for wings? Because wings are no longer necessary - there's the aero, wings would only be a hindrance. Wings are for flying, and there's no longer anywhere for us to fly to: we've arrived, we've found everything.

Freedom and crime are so indissolubly connected to each other, like . . . well, like the movement of the aero and its velocity. When the velocity of the aero = 0, it doesn’t move; when the freedom of a person = 0, he doesn’t commit crime. This is clear. The sole means of ridding man of crime is to rid him of freedom.

Lindbergh expressed these thoughts in a splendid speech while accepting the Wright Brothers Memorial Trophy at the Washington Aero Club in January 1946. Titling his speech “Honoring the Wright Brothers,” he took as his theme “the way in which science was divorcing man from his old sense of independence and moral values.”16

Thoughts rapping quietly, metallically, distinctly: a mysterious aero carries me to the blue heights of my favorite abstractions. And here in this cleanest sharp air, I see my rationale about my “rights” burst with a light pop, like a pneumatic tire. And I can see clearly that these ideas about “rights” were merely a throwback from a ridiculous superstition of the Ancients.

I’m weak. Allowing him to control me. I fight the men in the room beneath us for this very freedom I’m so willingly giving Aero. Regrets will come. Many of them. His eyes narrow, and I can practically see his satisfied grin beneath the mask. He talks slowly as he threads the end of the belt through the buckle, effectively closing the belt around my neck. “That’s my good...sweet...obedient girl.

Liberation! It is remarkable how persistent human criminal instincts are! I use deliberately the word “criminal,” for freedom and crime are as closely related as—well, as the movement of an aero and its speed: if the speed of an aero equals zero, the aero is motionless; if human liberty is equal to zero, man does not commit any crime. That is clear. The way to rid man of criminality is to rid him of freedom.

trials held at ‘aero shows’ on Southampton Water were attended by ‘alert Germans

activated charcoal, filtering the very light out of the air. A bullet will bounce off its arachnofiber weave like a wren hitting a patio door, but excess perspiration wafts through it like a breeze through a freshly napalmed forest. Where his body has bony extremities, the suit has sintered armorgel: feels like gritty jello, protects like a stack of telephone books. When they gave him the job, they gave him a gun. The Deliverator never deals in cash, but someone might come after him anyway—might want his car, or his cargo. The gun is tiny, aero-styled, lightweight,

After January 1, 1959, the Castro Revolution changed the way business was done in Cuba. Abruptly, supplies for Cubana were no longer available, most routes were altered or suspended, and many of the pilots deserted their jobs or were exiled. In May of 1960, the new Castro administration merged all of the existing Cuban airlines and nationalized them under a drastically restructured Cubana management. At the time, many of Cubana’s experienced personnel took advantage of their foreign connections, and left for employment with other airlines. During the Bay of Pigs Invasion in April of 1961, two of the remaining Cubana DC-3’s were destroyed in the selective bombing of Cuba’s airports. Actually the only civil aviation airport that was proven to be bombed was the Antonio Maceo Airport in Santiago de Cuba. During the following years, the number of hijackings increased and some aircraft were abandoned at American airports, as the flight crews sought asylum in the United States. This corporate instability, as well as political unrest, resulted in a drastic reduction of passengers willing to fly with Cubana. Of course, this resulted in a severe reduction in revenue, making the airline less competitive. The Castro régime reacted by blaming the CIA for many of Cubana’s problems. However, slowly, except to the United States, most of the scheduled flights were restored. Not being able to replace their aging fleet with American manufactured aircraft, they turned to the Soviet Union. Currently Cubana’s fleet includes Ukrainian designed and built Antonov An-148’s and An-158’s. The Cubana fleet also has Soviet designed and built Illyushin II-96’s and Tupolev TU-204’s built in Kazan, Russia. Despite daunting difficulties, primarily due to the United States’ imposed embargo and the lack of sufficient assistance from Canada, efforts to expand and improve operations during the 1990’s proved successful. “AeroCaribbean” originally named “Empresa Aero” was established in 1982 to serve as Cuba’s domestic airline. It also supported Cubana’s operations and undertook its maintenance. Today Cubana’s scheduled service includes many Caribbean, European, South and Central American destinations. In North America, the airline flies to Mexico and Canada. With Cuban tourism increasing, Cubana has positioned itself to be relatively competitive. However much depends on Cuba’s future relations with the United States. The embargo imposed in February of 1962 continues and is the longest on record. However, Cubana has continued to expand, helping to make Cuba one of the most important tourist destinations in Latin America. A little known fact is that although Cubana, as expected, is wholly owned by the Cuban government, the other Cuban airlines are technically not. Instead, they are held, operated and maintained by the Cuban military, having been created by Raúl Castro during his tenure as the Minister of the Revolutionary Armed Forces.

A wing on a Formula One car operates like the wing on an aero-plane except in reverse. So whereas the aircraft wing generates life, the wing on a car does the opposite, pushing the car down to the surface.

Stop being a weak bitch, Briony,” Aero growls in my ear. “It was about time you joined the real world with the rest of us.

I’m not running from Aero. I’d never get far. I know he’ll never stop. He’s relentless in his mission to make me his, and secretly, I admire it. His peculiar obsession has begun my own. I’m running from the idea of myself. The old, naïve, shriveled bud of Briony, in search of her truth. The girl who became a woman by the man who pushed her in all the ways she never thought she wanted.

In the name of Aero, your new god, I baptize you, Briony Strait.

You, Aero, are the throat from which I’ve been allowed to scream,” she whispers,

No, he needs to hear me say his name. “Aero,” I whisper shakily.

Aero wasted no time getting us into the shower.

You hold the key, Aero. You hold all the power. Even without it, you own every room you walk into, even the ones you don’t.

Paul’s description of Satan as the “prince” (archMn) “of the air” (tou aeros) or “prince of the power of the air” (Ephesians 2:2) is indicative of where this deception will originate.

MISS KINSELLA’S NUTRITIONAL SUPPLEMENTS SUPPLIED BY: Rolo & Mint Aero

A few crows shop the furrowed rows for worms, weevils, and grasshoppers. One hops over to inspect the truck I'm lying under, cocks a beady black eye, probably attracted to the shiny metal police-issued handcuffs, my hand in one of the cuffs, dangling from wrist to arm, and finally down to me, Lalla Bains, aero-ag pilot, sometime busybody, meddling where I shouldn't—again.

Thirty-one days later, in the summer of 1981, he became a full-time writer, and the feeling of liberation as he left the agency for the last time was heady and exhilarating. He shed advertising like an unwanted skin, though he continued to take a sneaky pride in his bestknown slogan, “Naughty but nice” (created for the Fresh Cream Cake Client), and in his “bubble words” campaign for Aero chocolate (IRRESISTIBUBBLE, DELECTABUBBLE, ADORABUBBLE, the billboards cried, and bus sides read TRANSPORTABUBBLE, trade advertising said PROFITABUBBLE, and storefront decals proclaimed AVAILABUBBLE HERE). Later that year, when Midnight’s Children was awarded the Booker Prize, the first telegram he received—there were these communications called “telegrams” in those days—was from his formerly puzzled boss. “Congratulations,” it read. “One of us made it.

Sometimes he’d dream of hunting for Adam the Usurper twenty years in the future, or of Doctor Simmons sending Aero to burrow into his head and steal his most secret thoughts and desires.

小型无人机市场的主要参与者还将继续包括航空环境公司(AeroVironment)、萨博公司（Saab）、以色列航宇工业公司（Israel Aerospace Industries）和泰雷斯集团（ThalesGroup）。

Chapter One: The world is flat. I know it is, because for the last five hours the view has been exactly the same. Only the sun has done any traveling, working its long shadows through straight lines of harvested cotton. A few crows shop the furrowed rows for worms, weevils, and grasshoppers. One hops over to inspect the truck I'm lying under, cocks a beady black eye, probably attracted to the shiny metal police-issued handcuffs, my hand in one of the cuffs, dangling from wrist to arm, and finally down to me, Lalla Bains, aero-ag pilot, sometime busybody, meddling where I shouldn't—again. I'm dirt smeared and sweaty, thinking if I get out of this alive, if the killer doesn't return to finish me off, I'll foreswear all future sleuthing. My dad, Caleb my fiancé, my best friend Roxanne, and half of Stanislaus County will be pleased to bear witness to that promise.

I understand his freedom now. Aero’s liberty from a past where our minds were warped to convince us we were born into sin, needing to spend our lives atoning for simply surviving. But we refuse to be held down by the weight of sin created by men of a different time and circumstance. Our lives are our own to live, and societal restrictions to human nature that feel natural, pure, and simply organic can no longer contain us.

. . . Much was made of the fact that Yuri Gagarin was an ordinary citizen of the Soviet Union. He was born in the Gzhatsk District of Smolensk and entered secondary school in 1941. But his studies were interrupted by the German invasion. After World War Two Gagarin's family moved back to Gzhatsk, where Yuri resumed his studies. In 1951 he graduated with honours from a vocational school in the town of Lyubersy, near Moscow. He received a foundryman's certificate. He then studied at an industrial technical school in Saratov, on the Volga, from which he graduated with honours in 1955. It was while attending the industrial school that the man who would be the first to fly in space took his first steps in aviation, when he commenced a course of training at the Saratov Aero Club in 1955 . . .

This is what he likes. The fear. Aero gets off on my fear and aggression. The thrill of it all paired with my anger has me exploding against him, taking out all of my frustrations in this moment, using him as my punching bag. But he’s too strong. I feel his smirk against my cheek, his hair tickling the side of my face as I breathe him in while panting with exhaustion.

Say it,” he demands against the shell of my ear, drawing in another deep inhale against the side of my head. My mind swirls with panic as his words wrap around my weak little form like a serpent, so sure of the demise of its prey. "Say it!" he says again, and I jump, gasping for air as I close my eyes tightly, withholding my scream. He wants me to tell him who he is? No, he needs to hear me say his name. “Aero,” I whisper shakily. He hums his approval against the flesh of my neck, his stone-like body encapsulating mine as he continues to press into me. “If you want to get out alive,” he whispers against my skin, the warmth of his breath tickling my skin, “run for your life.

This sex, or whatever it is we’re doing...it’s mind-blowing. It’s otherworldly. It’s indescribable. It’s a strange release of this tension I’d built over the years, contemplating if I was sick in the head, sinful, or destined for despair. Indecent thoughts plagued me since his arrival, as if he opened the gates to sexuality as a whole. Aero makes me feel like the expression of the sex between us is innate, entirely natural, and completely necessary, like the oxygen we breathe.

Ride him, Briony,” Aero calls out to me. My brows lower. He can’t be serious. “Don’t worry, he’ll leave his pants on,” he says. “Won’t you?” Nox spits out the underwear from his mouth. “Fuck you.” “She won’t,” Aero retorts smugly. “But go ahead doll. Get on him.” I freeze in place, my eyes darting between Aero and Nox. Aero grips the back of my neck, causing me to suck in a breath as my breasts bounce and I almost trip over my heels. “I said get on him,” he demands. “Show him what he can’t have.

Saint stands immediately, and in a surprising move, pulls me up and off the bed, shoving me behind him. I peer around his arm to see those piercing hazel eyes beneath the black mask, Aero’s shirtless form covered in those endless marks and scars. Mound of muscle that look tense and taut, as if he’s had a hard time restraining himself, are dressed in nothing but the black pants and combat boots he was wearing earlier. His lengthy frame grows on us with every abominable step he takes. Saint holds me back, his chest heaving in terror at the presence of an unknown man lurking in the corners of my room. “It’s him,” he whispers to himself. Aero’s uneven smirk pulls at his lips through the mouth hole of the mask.

Fuck, it’s so tight. It almost hurts how hard you’re choking my cock.” He’s really enjoying this. Gritting his teeth through whatever sensations silently wreck him. I feel more saliva drip down onto the place where we connect, a large amount wetting the area further as I breathe through my lips. “Is it in now?” I ask, assuming the worst is over. He chuckles lightly through his short, uncontrolled breaths. “I’m only in about an inch, maybe two.” “Oh shit,” I cry out into the blankets. “We got at least seven more.” “No,” I whine into the blankets. “You need to trust me, Briony,” he breathes. He leans over my back, his hand sliding into my hair as his thumb grazes my cheek with a gentle sweeping motion. “Trust that I’ve got you. I need you to love this because I plan on doing it often.” My heart tumbles inside of my chest at the statement. A statement very unlike the man I first met. “Okay?” he asks softly, gaining my attention before moving. I swallow before licking my lips. “Okay.” My pussy contracts and tightens, aching for some sort of attention or distraction. As if reading my body, Aero slips a hand around my hips, his massive fingers covering my own as he massages my clit in those soft circles he instructed. “There you go,” he whispers before a light groan leaves his throat. “Just like that. There’s my good girl, Bri baby.” I convulse at his words, feeling electricity shoot through my clit with every stroke of his hand covering mine while I’m being impaled from behind. “I’m going to push deeper now, okay?” he asks, leaning back up again. I nod, closing my eyes tightly. “Fuck, this looks...” He groans from deep within his chest. “I won’t last long,” he mutters as I feel myself stretching to accommodate more of his length.

My dirty slut, letting me do these vile things to you.” I feel him pull out, wetting himself with my pooling arousal, then gripping my hip as he sinks back in even deeper. The motion sparks all of my nerve endings to sizzle, bringing a new erotic heat to life. “Say it. Promise me you’ll be my whore till the day you die.” “Till the day I die,” I gasp through labored breaths. “Destroy my purity, Aero. Dirty me with your demons.

Just as thoughts of love and endearment float like fireflies beneath the surface of my skin, they drop from my being entirely when I see a black figure pass the window adjacent to him. Before I can even alert him to the sight, I see his head turn ever so slightly, somehow hearing the footsteps outside the window. He turns to face me, shirtless, wearing only his black jeans as his direct eye contact demands mine. He stares with a wild, protective nature while holding a single finger to his lips, silencing me. My pulse pounds in my neck, a cyclone of terror hitting me in the gut, and yet he looks entirely too calm. The rest of his fingers raise as he holds out a palm, telling me to stay put. I curse beneath my breath, closing my eyes tightly as the door to the bedroom bursts open. Aero rests in the shadows behind the door while I stand near the wall of the bathroom, holding my breath as my eyes slowly open to the mirror, seeing the reflection of the intruder in our private space. As if knowing to clear the room, the masked man grips the edge of the door, about to peer behind it where Aero’s standing. I throw my wooden brush against the glass of the mirror, causing it to shatter entirely, stealing his attention, if only for a second. The man turns, seeing my form standing in the bathroom’s light. Taking quick strides towards me, I squint my eyes, expecting to be knocked off my ass by the approaching man. Aero emerges from the shadows without a sound. With a belt he grabbed from somewhere, he wraps it around the intruder’s neck, jetting the man back against his solid bare chest. The man’s eyes bulge beneath the cutout of the mask, his fingers clawing at the flesh of Aero’s flexed forearms as his grip tightens. Legs splay and kick out as the man slowly sinks to the ground, the seconds ticking away like minutes as I watch the life drain from him.

I forget who he is when I so often find myself pretending who I want him to be. But one thing is clear, the veil of the obscure mask is worn, and whispers of Aero Westwood in our small community are finally becoming known.

simple gun pointed at his head has Saint bending down to retrieve it. “Tie her to the bed,” Aero demands. Saint’s eyes land on mine. Aero scratches the side of his head again with the barrel of the gun and his taut abdomen flexes, highlighting the evidence of our matching wounds, his still oozing blood down his flesh. “I’m not a man of much patience. Fucking do it. Now.” I close my eyes tightly, nodding slightly. Walking towards the bed, I approach Saint. I place my palm on his shaking hand holding the rosary, and our eyes connect. “I’m scared,” I whisper truthfully. Saint tries to read my gaze, but I already feel him faltering, slipping away. “Just do what he says,” I plead. “He’s a dangerous man.” The corners of his eyes crease with his growing uncertainty. I can tell he’s racking his brain for the answers, for a way out of this, but Aero’s entirely too calculated. There isn’t a plot twist he hasn’t already imagined. “On the fucking bed!” he yells behind us, causing me to jump.

What is it, Briony?” Aero asks directly, needing me to continue. “I feel like death isn’t something he deserves.” His face hardens as I continue. “I want him to suffer. To burn. From the inside out.

Aero taught me, but not by telling. He opened my mind to the realities of the world around me by placing me in his chaotic maze. He took my world hostage, and only by my own abilities and choices did he grant me the freedom of my own free will. He’d always wanted more from me. He saw that fire within my soul that ached for a world in which I would thrive. The knowledge of who I was as a powerful woman to my core.

Then I remember her words. “My gift to you is my body. I’m giving you complete ownership, handing myself over to you entirely. I trust you with everything that I am. My life is yours now, Aero. I live for you. Do as you desire with me, and please, don’t for a second even think about holding back.

Those days spent with Aero alone at his cabin were nothing short of an educational experience set to bring me to this moment. We wasted not a minute of time spent together. I’d learned a lifetime of information crammed into a single week. Everything was a game to him, or so I’d thought. The chase into the woods, being tied up and used at his mercy, being cared for afterwards as everything I’d learned during our lessons was broken down. From the flick of my wrist throwing the blades to the ability to escape his traps, here I sit, contorted into the back of this trunk, sitting on a gold mine of skills set to free us. To free him. He’d always known it’d come to this moment. The moment he’d finally let go and watch as his bud bloomed into his savage rose, bleeding nothing but strength and courage from her petals. The stem, built with the most destructive thorns of empowerment they’d ever known. A warrior arising from the soiled dirt of the institution meant to choke me dry.

Aero!” I gasp, shooting upright and looking down at my chest. Both of my nipples are pierced. Gold bars sit through each of them, little gold hearts surrounding the tips. Aero's hand from behind me grips the front of my neck, pulling me back and pinning me against his hard chest. “Calm down.” His deep, authoritative tone rumbles through me. “Fuck, just look at you.” My breasts float beneath the water around his corded forearm as I gaze at them.

He’s always watched over you...from afar, while I’ve watched from within.” Baret’s known of Aero’s existence. To what extent, I haven’t discovered. The only reasoning I can imagine is that Aero wanted it that way. I’ve always been protected, the truths surfacing in their own time, when I was strong enough to accept them. To believe them as facts. Luckily, the car they’ve put us in is a newer model, as I suspected, leaving me to feel out the dark space with my free hand until the tips of my fingers sweep over the safety latch. This wasn’t a lesson from Aero, this was from my own little arsenal of knowledge.

Alastor Abbott was my father by blood. My parents couldn’t have any more children and were the perfect family to receive such a generous donation from a dead woman. A son who wanted out of the faith, a baby girl they could mold with deceptive lies in order to control. Just like they did Aero’s mother, they killed mine in cold blood, brushing yet another life under the rug, and gave me to prestigious members of the church. The same parents who Baret has discovered conveniently took that mission trip in order to disappear, sanctioning the order of the church to take care of the dark stain themselves. The stain that pushed too far, seeking more for herself in a world that demanded its sheep shut up and abide. I was always a threat to them, just as he was. Out of their control. An outsider. A stray who’d developed the intelligence to see from beyond the confines of an organized religion built on deceptive rules. Aero was right. They never wanted me. They wanted obedience to keep the train of deceitful power in motion.

embraced the way life slipped from his eyes as Aero tightened that belt to the pole, both of us watching as the breath he took became his last. A man who took everything from everyone around him, ruthlessly scheming his way through life under the veil of faith. Saint’s horrified screams filled the room in harmonic beauty as he watched his father’s murder.

witnessed the boy who’d been stripped of a life of happiness that could’ve been his, get revenge on the evil that stole his innocence. I gritted my teeth alongside him as he carved layers of flesh from Bishop Caldwell’s arms and thighs, noting the disturbing sound of the strips of skin slapping and sticking against the cool concrete as they fell. Saint passed out on top of the table as the spurts of warm blood splattered across our faces like a badge of revengeful honor. The thrill of knowing no child would be violated so violently filled my heart as I watched Aero cut it off, the screams of torture echoing throughout my body before being muffled out by his own shriveled, bloodied dick. It was cruel. Most would consider it downright evil. But all I saw was the divine, heavenly justice of a man who deserved far worse than any pain we could inflict on this earth. I stood behind Aero, gripping his bloodied hand in mine as one life vanished and a new life was reborn.

But it wasn’t pain that held me together. It was my ability to recall the feel of your gentle, comforting touch.” “Aero…” I stifle a sob, my heart squeezing like a fist in my chest. “I was strengthening you all while you were unknowingly strengthening me.” I feel him harden beneath me as his breathing changes, but the power in his direct gaze has me locked to those hazel eyes.

Till the day I die,” I gasp through labored breaths. “Destroy my purity, Aero. Dirty me with your demons.

Pressing myself as deep as I can one last time, hitting the piercing against the back of her smooth throat, I pull back. Stroking my cock a few times, a throaty grunt escapes me and euphoria finds me as I release myself on her face, pumping all the cum from my tight balls onto her pretty little face. Her eyes close tightly as she gasps for air, the mix of cum, tears, and mascara creating the most beautiful image before me. My filthy girl finally covered in me. Placing my semi-limp cock back in my pants, I take two fingers, wiping the cum that’s dripping down her cheek, coating them. She blinks up at me, her eyes wet with tears as a sob leaves her. Taking the cum, I make the sign of the cross on her forehead. “In the name of Aero, your new god, I baptize you, Briony Strait.” I take the rest and wipe it over her lips as she stares at me in horrified disbelief. “Your new life begins now.

Do you want to be Saint’s weak little slut, or Aero’s powerful queen?” She swallows, peering down at my body being held over her in a push-up-like stance. Her eyes rise to meet mine again, contemplation in her gaze. She licks her lips, calming her breathing before talking. “I’ve never wanted to be a slut,” she whispers, staring at me dangerously. A grin forms behind my mask, and I get the urge to bite into my lip. “Or someone’s queen,” she continues, dropping her tone and raising her chin defiantly. I hear a light click and the muscles of my back pull taut as my spine straightens. “I’m a King.

Aero is psychotic. Insane. Obsessive. And for some strange reason, I can’t help but to be entirely intrigued by the toxic sides of him.

You’d be best to realize I’ll always be doing this after we fuck.” “What’s that exactly?” she starts with an edge, tipping her head, causing her long wet hair to drape across her shoulder. “Taking away my liberties?” I squeeze the hand I’m holding tighter in my fist as my gaze hardens. “I can’t go from one prison to the next, Aero,” she says in a softer tone. “I know you have this possessive claim over me, but I’m not an object. And as much as you probably wish you did, you don’t own me. Nobody does. Not the church. Not Aero.

You may be ready to risk your ignorant, privileged, irrelevant little life for another man’s rules, but are you willing to allow her to die because of it?” Saint doesn’t answer, and Aero’s knowing eyes narrow at him. “The ultimate sacrifice. The ultimate test. He was preparing you for this. The brick. The writings on the wall...” My stomach churns, my heart raging with fear only the dead silence of this room could create. Both men stare at each other. Unspoken words flirt between their gazes, and I’m left feeling utterly dazed in their presence. Could Saint truly know who his father is? “Are you aware of what she’s been doing behind closed doors?” Aero tips his head. My mind swirls with thoughts of ultimate betrayal and deception as my nausea tears away at me. “Trust me, the blackmail was only the tip of the iceberg.

feel naughty and used in the way that I crave. I want to take the disadvantages of being seen only as an object and a woman of no worth and own it as my own under the direction of Aero. Turning our pain into pleasure.

I narrow my gaze right back at him, holding the knife steady. “And with my own knife?” He clicks his tongue. “Savage little thing, you are.” “What is this?!” I yell out. “What do you know, Aero? What kind of sick game are you playing?

His knee presses between my thighs and he nudges, spreading my legs open as his hips pin me to the wall. “Next time this happens,” he says, drifting the gun down my cheek, then down my neck. The barrel trails down my abdomen until he lowers it to the place my thighs meet, his dark eyes focused on mine. “I’ll give you a proper reason to cry.” He rubs the gun between my legs, slowly sliding the length of it along the entirety of my tingling center, the cold metal a stark contrast to the heat building there. My lashes flutter before I close my eyes tightly, trying to ward off the sensation I’m reluctantly savoring. Aero’s presence does something different to me. He pushes me to feel things I’ve denied myself to save my soul. What I can’t decide is if falling into his darkness will set me free or destroy me entirely.

You should see what she likes,” Aero answers. “You wouldn’t believe how nasty this little angel gets.” His head drops back against the seat of the couch, his warm breath caressing my pussy as he continues talking, staring up at me bare before him. “Isn’t that right, baby?” “Yes,” I moan, feeling myself get wetter with every word that falls from his lips. His hands skim up the backs of my thighs, fingers pushing deep and hard until they reach the cusp of my ass. He grips, then pulls me open, giving his friend the full view of every part of me. I feel humiliated, degraded, and somehow more treasured than ever before. He’s parading his most prized possession and, as dehumanizing as it can seem, I can’t help but find it oddly attractive. It’s entirely overwhelming, and I’m already feeling light-headed in this lust-filled smog. “Fuck, she’s perfect,” Nox says, admiring me. “You ever seen an angel leave a body?” Aero asks, gripping the lace thong and making me gasp as he rips it apart, pulling it down my thigh. “Wait until you see her face when she comes.

You earned it, baby,” Aero groans, clearly close by his broken tone. “My filthy girl. You ready for another one?” His slippery, thick cock pushes relentlessly into me as I lay flat, straddling Nox, grinding against his hard shaft. The friction of my sensitive bundle of nerves rubbing on his dick while another one fills me has me spiraling with dirty and demented desires. Desires that have me feeling free and wild with primal need.

The beads of the rosary sink into the tendons of my wrists, causing an uncomfortable pain. Aero has Saint use his own rosary for my other wrist, and one of my legs is tied down with Saint’s belt. His sorrowful eyes keep averting my gaze as he follows Aero’s orders with the gun pointed at him from afar. Once I’m secured in place, Aero sits back in the corner of the room, watching closely. I can’t pick up the emotions he’s emitting. He’s become a wall of absent art, depicting nothing but deep cracks from years of abuse as he sits casually orchestrating the downfall, his eyes dark and unforgiving.

I fucked her. I fucked her dad. I’m done. It’s over.” It’s Saint’s voice. The smell of cigarette smoke hits my nostrils and I see the shadows of both men standing on the back patio near the edge of the bushes. “So what? It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. We’ve deleted your video and failed attempts. What matters is we are back in control of the situation you fumbled. We have him in our custody, and no one needs to know anything else about it. Baret will follow suit if he knows what’s good for him.” Saint tried to record me? Aero must have known, which is why he stepped in and took over so coldly. “What if she gets pregnant? I can’t become what I’m meant to if—“ “As if that’s ever stopped us,” Callum interrupts with a laugh. “We’ll make our own rules, and she will fall in line. She owes you that much.” I hear a back being slapped. “Be grateful, son. You got some fine pussy out of the deal and a fucking badge of honor before the induction. The congregation will be more than fine with the unanimous vote now.

Backing out the way I went under, my bare ass bumps into his legs. “You thought you were done?” Turning beneath the desk, I realize he’s trapping me beneath it with his body. “I told you, Briony. This is your baptism,” he says with a controlled voice, opening the belt to his slacks. “It’s time we took away your purity.” My heart flutters in the confines of its cage as Aero removes his belt from the loops of his pants. “Isn’t this what you want?” he asks, leaning down to where I’m sitting on my calves. Holding his belt with both of his hands about two feet apart, he drapes it around the back of my neck, and I shudder. “To be dirtied by the devil?” Yanking the belt towards him, my head tilts further, looking up at the masked man above me. Something about his belt behind my neck has my body warming with that same lustful wonder I can’t contain, the tightening of my lower abdomen making me want to touch the space between my legs for some sort of relief. “Yes,” I whisper, then close my eyes tightly, hating everything about how I’m feeling in his presence.

Reaching up, I pull the straps to the gown down over my shoulders, letting my breasts hold the material up. Aero reaches down, gripping the material near the middle of my chest and pulls it down. The move exposes my breasts, the cool air of the room causing my nipples to harden. I grit my teeth, closing my eyes, feeling entirely too uncovered and exposed. His chest expands and contracts faster than before and a low rumble leaves his throat. He reaches his hand out and gently cups the base of my hanging breast, lifting it slightly while running his thumb over the pebbled nipple before dropping it and allowing it to bounce before him. I

Two people. Two bodies that I know of. Aero has blood on his hands because of me, and nothing drove me more to the point of absolute lust than this disturbing realization.

Wasting no time, he angles his cock again, pressing into me from behind as my clit hovers over Nox’s erection, my arms bracing me on the floor. Aero pushes me down so my arms bend and my breasts rub against Nox’s bare chest, my clit grinding down on top of him. “You’re a twisted fuck,” Nox calls out to Aero as he stares at me like I’m a delicacy before his mouth he can’t afford. He lifts his hips, grinding the rock beneath his jeans against my clit.

She likes having all her holes filled while fucking,” Aero gloats. “Shit,” Nox groans, his eyes closing tight as he continues to grind up against my clit. Smearing this in his face is clearly killing him.

Touch your clit, Bri. Rub it in slow circles with your fingers and take a few deep breaths,” Aero eagerly demands.

It’s me.” He pauses in place before us. “But who is him? I’m curious to find out.” He cocks his head to the side before flipping a butterfly knife open in his hand. My eyes dart nervously between the two of them. The tension is thick as mud and the room feels as if the familiar walls are caging us in. The two of them, in the same room, finally facing off. “Truthfully, it doesn’t matter what you’ve been told,” Aero says casually, flipping the sharp blade with a quick wrist, making a smooth motion with the knife. “You wouldn’t believe me for a second if I gave it to you straight.” He sneers, confidence radiating from his cold, dark eyes.

It’s not about what I want.“ Aero lifts the gun, placing it on Saint’s temple. Saint stills in place, his hand tightening around my wrist, and I can practically smell the fear seeping from his pores. “It’s about what I need.” “And right now...” Aero’s gun slowly shifts until it’s pointed at me behind him. He gives me a haunting grin beneath the mask, his eyes twinkling with the hateful revenge he’s been harboring all these years. The pain of his entire childhood, present in the excitement of the fear and control unraveling before him. Cold. Ruthless. Entirely terrifying. I’m losing the man I thought I knew to the darkness that owns him. “Right now, I need you to fuck her.

Swallow your cock, slut,” he demands. I moan around him, the words so vile, demeaning, and entirely too attractive for the submissive doll I’ve become. “Take your punishment.” After bringing himself to the edge, almost losing at his own game, he pulls out of my mouth, gazing down at the teary, wet mess beneath him with fire in his eyes. He slaps his cock against my cheek before pushing it back between my lips. He repeats this process, pulling out, slapping me, then throat fucking me again. Toying with himself. Toying with me. “Aero,” I whine, craving my own release as he rubs the piercing across my lips, a drop of cum leaking onto my tongue. “Please.” “Please what?” he asks, cocking a brow. “Give me what I need,” I cry. His infamous smirk pulls at his lips before he leans down closer to me. His arm wraps back around behind me, his fingers slipping beneath my shorts until he brushes against my arousal, slipping a finger deep inside. “Oh yeah, you’re ready,” he says, eyes darkening with his own hunger. “God, you’re so amazing, Bri. My dirty little doll. Let’s make you filthy, yeah?

I know the look because I’m emitting it right back to him. Aero has said that I am his existence. That he can’t breathe without me. But I can’t live without him. I would be nothing without him. My heart has caved for the man that is without one. I love how protective he is. How he’s literally spent his life waiting for me, silently watching me from afar, waiting until the time came when they’d want to eliminate his flower that hadn’t yet bloomed.

Tell me more,” he hums, before licking across my lips again. “I want to take away the only thing that would dismantle the institution, ruining him with the same stain they’ve smeared upon us.” Aero’s head nuzzles into my neck, where I feel his warm, wet tongue trail up my throat, licking and urging for more. “I want to take his virginity.” He pauses against my neck, his mouth open and his tongue stilling against my flesh. Raising his head, he looks down at me with an unreadable expression. I see the war behind his eyes as he imagines the possibility, with a push and a pull of the heart he pretends to lack. Revenge. Possession. Vengeance. Claim. “Killing him is too easy an art,” I declare, holding my chin up.

Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you. In red ink over the passage was his message. FORGIVENESS -Aero Placing it in my nightstand drawer along with the others, I run my hands down my face, wondering if and when these games will end. I continue in my groggy state, getting dressed and ready for teaching. Pulling my underwear from the drawer, my brows lowered at the sight of ripped fabric. Holding a piece up, I realize what I’m looking at.

I won’t let anyone hurt you. I promise,” he whispers. All I can think is how different that sentence sounded coming from a different man. No one hurts you but me. Yeah, he definitely hurt me with this one. Aero is toxic and entirely dysfunctional. I see it more clearly now that I’m not under his intoxicating spell.

I wanted sin. And I wanted it with him. Aero is my stalker. He’s like the air around him. Vanishing whenever he pleases. Showing up to surprise me when I least expect it to pleasure me in ways unimaginable. He only has two rules for me; give myself over to my hidden desires, and never find out who he is. What he doesn’t realize is he’s creating a monster. One with the same insatiable hunger for the sickest form of toxic love.

Nox licks his lips as Aero’s curl in approval. “Kneel on the couch,” his indifferent tone slices through me. I stand still, hesitating, before finally walking a step over to the couch. I kneel on the cold leather beneath me, holding onto the back of it for support. “Now bend forward, spread those thighs, and show him my pretty pink cunt.” I swallow, closing my eyes tightly as I let out a quick, nervous breath. Bending forward, I arch my back, angling my ass up. Using my thumb, I pull the lace strip over, exposing myself to both men behind me. “Fuck,” Nox mumbles softly.

Why do they want me dead?” “You sure that’s the question you want to ask? You already know the answer,” he comments smugly, picking up the knife. You pushed and pushed… You just kept pushing. His words spring to life in my mind. These games. This man. The answers he knows but won’t convey. I’m breaking. “Answer me!” I scream in frustration. “Because you weren’t meant to be, Briony! If you would’ve just shut up and played pretty housewife, you wouldn’t be in this fucking mess. But no,” he snaps. “You needed to conquer their world too, didn’t you?” “That doesn’t make sense to me, Aero!” I pick up another knife from the ground. “It’s not enough!” I chuck it at him.

His eyes widen one last time as his mouth opens, seeking the air that he’s being deprived. Dark eyes peer up at mine as Aero drops the man with a thud against the wooden floor beneath him. His anger is penetrating me; his body, shaking with rage. This isn’t the man I was with a moment ago. This is the psychotic, trained assassin who’s put numerous bodies into the ground like it was nothing. Another masked man enters the room behind him. Aero slides to the floor, seamlessly pulling the gun from the deceased man’s holster. He leans his back against the end of the bed with his legs spread out before him as his arms straighten, aiming. Firing once, the silencer captures the sound as the bullet finds the skull of the shocked intruder. He stumbles back against the door before his legs give way and he slowly sinks to the floor beneath him, leaving a splatter of bright red blood on the wood behind him.

You see, Saint, sex doesn’t destroy Christianity,” he says, ignoring me entirely, turning his hard glare on him. “Sex is natural. It’s genetically programmed into us as a biological motivator in which we live our everyday lives. It’s pleasurable, organic, and a primal need our bodies constantly seek, whether or not you’re aware. You fight it because you’re told to. For no other reason than the idea of control. Control of the masses.” “Fornication is a sin—” “Sex doesn’t destroy Christianity,” Aero repeats calmly but with annoyance, interrupting Saint entirely. “Men do.” Saint's eyes narrow, both of their heated gazes burning a hole through the other. “So you’re going to fuck her like you’ve been imagining, and show your father who you truly are; a man with no attachments other than the eternal love for his God alone. You are going to use her, take from her, and throw her away as planned. Just as he did with his mistress. Just as they all do when the time comes for them to prove themselves.

Don’t be stupid, son. That woman may think she’s determined to make a place for herself in the church, but revenge is not in her blood. She’s entirely too soft. Besides, she doesn’t even know her father. There’s no reason she’d play a part in your demise. Her faith would never allow it. It was all a setup from the infamous Aero Westwood,” he says dramatically. “He used her to get to us, but it backfired.

You messed up,” his grave, familiar tone purrs throughout my core, his hot breath warming my neck. “You hesitated, and now you’re dead.” This is Aero’s game; always has been. I’m still merely a player. I feel the rope circle my wrist as he tries to grab for the other. Sending an elbow to his jaw, I feel his teeth knock together before an angry growl reverberates from somewhere deep in his chest. Thrashing wildly in his hold, I feel his body push into me, forcing my face into the dirt beneath us, my legs splaying out behind me. He’s already hard.

Eighteen. Not twenty, like I’d been told. Aero opened Pandora’s box a week ago, gifting me the secrets I’d been told my entire life. What do you do when you see the proof of the fact that your parents aren’t really your parents? My brother wasn’t really my brother. My date of birth and place of birth weren’t even accurate.