Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 45332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Oh god. Oh god… How many more women does he have on rotation? I swallow down the lump in my throat and try to rationalize what’s happening when I realize he never made me any promises. Yet I want them. Envy mixed with hurt burns the edges of my heart.
“So?” She belts her coat, causing me to wonder if opening it in the first place was a cock measuring competition of the female variety. I’m grateful that she’s covered herself up and I don’t have to stare at her crotch any longer. “Are you their contract girl? He didn’t say he had a new girl on contract.” She casually walks around the chair, as if seeing me in it is a normal occurrence in this apartment.
“What does that mean, contract girl?” I scowl, squirming in my seat.
She laughs as she pulls a chair over, setting it in front of the one I’m currently tied to. I try to free my hands, but the tinsel garland painfully cuts into my skin. At least the vibrations have stopped so I can more easily inhale air into my lungs while studying the woman who has shaken me to the core.
“Tris and Vance like to fuck girls together. They have certain tastes.” She flicks her wrist to my bindings. “As you know.” Freckles speckled across her cheeks make her look young, however, the lines pinching around her eyes, suggest she’s older than first appears.
My chest hurts. She must see the pain on my face because she smirks and settles back in her chair. “Oh no. You thought you were special?” Not waiting for a response, she reaches forward to take the peg from one of my nipples. My brain struggles to register what’s happening when she leans forward and flicks her tongue over the sore bud, making me flinch.
“Don’t touch me,” I sneer. The violation angering me, dampening the hurt momentarily.
Holding her hands up in surrender, she raises her perfectly sculpted brows that match her hair color. “Sorry. I was only offering some relief. Those clamps are a bitch.”
No, no, no. The pulsing begins again, increasing in intensity so my thighs shake and my pussy constricts. It’s relentless, so I’m shaking and crying by the time it ebbs away. The bitch stares at me with a thin-lipped smile curling the corner of her mouth.
“What contract?” I eventually manage to ask through gritted teeth, pretending she hasn’t witnessed something so intimate.
“Oh, right.” She waves a hand, completely unfazed. “They offer a three month contract of pleasure, and once the three months are up, they send her on her merry way.”
Memories of them talking about a contract this morning and them saying I wouldn’t be around for longer than a few weeks make my soul leave my body. Oh god, this can’t be happening. I don’t want just weeks or months with them. I don’t ever want to leave. I can’t do this for another three weeks or months—I can’t be with them for three anything, knowing it will come to an end, then I’ll be left out in the cold without them. My heart is already breaking, just thinking about it.
“Oh, dear. You really didn’t know.” Is that pity or mocking in her tone? Either way, I need out of here.
“Take these off me,” I tell her, lurching forward and shaking my limbs, ignoring the biting pain.
“They wouldn’t like that, and then it will be me in the chair.” She shrugs.
“Remove the damn fucking bindings and pegs!” At my screamed demand, her eyes spring wide.
“Okay, calm down.” She removes the pegs before collecting scissors from the kitchen. Her stupid heels click the entire time. I hate her.
Cutting the bindings, she stumbles back when I launch out of the chair, racing to the bedroom to search for some clothes.
I came here with nothing, but there’s no way in hell I’m taking anything Tristan bought for me. Those clothes feel more like a fucking payment, like with Vance at the hotel.
Tears burn my eyes as the horrible woman’s heels once again click down the hall and round the door.
“Why are you in this room?” Her prickly tone irritates me. It takes willpower not to punch her in those fake tits. “Is this Tristan’s room?” My head turns to glare at her. Surely, she would know this is his room.
“Yes. It’s where we sleep,” I snap, throwing on a pair of Tristan’s sleep shorts and one of Vance’s T-shirts. I’ll return them once I’m away from here. When I turn for the door, the woman is leaning against the frame, frowning. “What?” I ask, hating that she can see the tears dripping down my cheeks.
“Nothing.” She looks at her nails.
I brush past her to find my phone, shoving it in my purse before slipping on a pair of shoes. I look around at the twinkling lights, and a hole opens in my gut.