Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 25708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Don’t say it.
Don’t say it.
But maybe there is a part of me that is still good. That wants to give her a warning to stay the hell away from me, because I’m a monster. Because I’m her monster.
I’m already walking toward her. Closing in on her. Backing her up against the table.
Her ass hits the piece of furniture, inching it across the floor, startling her.
She’s breathing faster. Faster.
Good.
“I want a girl who shuts her mouth and takes my dick when I decide to give it to her.” Make it worse. Let her know she needs to stay away. That you’re not safe. Nothing about you is safe for her. “I want a girl who reports her movements to me or knows she’s going to be tracked down, spanked raw and put on her knees for a suck and fuck session.” I crowd so close to Scout that the table scrapes several more inches backward on the floor, her green eyes wide as silver dollars as my disgusting warning continues. “I want a girl who gets on her fucking back on command and moans for Daddy, even while her thighs and neck and tits are being bruised up by my hands. Maybe even because of it. What do you think of that, angel?”
“I-I don’t know. I…don’t know.” She furrows her brow, looking down the length of her delicious body. A shudder snakes through her. Hot or cold? “It makes me feel s-s-strange, I guess,” she finishes in a whisper.
I’m holding my breath. “Strange how?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never felt it before. I can’t describe it.”
It’s fear.
Of course, it’s fear. Alarm.
Probably a sixth sense telling her I’m not what I seem.
But I take another step and her gorgeous body is up against mine now. My cock is throbbing. She’s been thrown to the wolf right at mealtime and I’m not well. I’m not fucking well, because of her. My hands move on their own, grasping her around the waist and dragging up her ribcage, watching her distracting lips pop open in response. “Cash?”
“We need to check your clothes and belongings for listening devices. Apple tags. He could be tracking you without your knowledge.” I am. I’ve been tracking her for months. But not through the use of a device. I stole her phone at a party ages ago and shared her location with my burner phone. “Hell, they make devices now the size of an ant. It could be attached to your clothing. In between the pages of your planner. Inside your phone.” Christ, I’m so wrong for this. I know I’m wrong. But I need to invent a reason to get my hands on her. I have to find a way to touch her while disguising this uncontrollable infatuation. If I don’t touch her, I’ll die. “I’ll go through your backpack, but first we need to take off your clothes. We need to search them.”
“Really?” She watches my hands as they skate down her arms and grip her hips, massaging them, desperate to rip off the fucking skirt and yank her thighs open so I can finally get a look at my dream pussy. “You think he’s tracking me right now?”
I track her from her bedroom to her bathroom and back. To her kitchen, to the store, to her couch. Daily. Hourly. Just watching the dot move with my dick in my hand. “Anything is possible.”
“Oh gosh.” Her cheeks turn the color of roses. “You want me to take my clothes off right here? In the kitchen…in front of you?”
“That’s right. I need to search everything, angel. Right here. Before you go somewhere to change your clothes and it falls out, unnoticed. If he knows you’re here, we’ll have to move.” Pretending to be all business, even though I’m sweating like a marathon runner beneath my clothes, I reach around to the back of her waist and find the zipper of her skirt. Sliding it down slowly. Letting it slither down her hot legs and pool around her feet, my palms smoothing eagerly over her buns, squeezing them, before dragging my middle and ring finger up the crack of her ass, feeling that tight rear breach through the thong. Oh my God, she’s sweet. Touching her is making me high. “We’re going to need to take off these cock tease panties, too.”
Jesus, if Russ walked back in right now, I’d never be able to explain this.
I’m sick. I’m immoral.
I’m performing a search that I know damn well isn’t necessary.
But these supple ass cheeks are in my hands and she’s wearing an emerald green thong that fits her like a glove, dividing up her sexy backside, clinging to her hot cunt like it was painted on and there’s no stopping this train now.
I’ve never been alone with Scout. This is why.
Me losing control has always been inevitable.