Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 128812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
I don't think I've ever gotten horny playing fucking cards before.
"Play with that pussy, baby girl. Come on Daddy's cock," Zayne says, glaring at her when she smiles at him, another victory under her belt.
"Fuck back on Daddy's cock," he says, as he deals more cards, getting twenty-one and beating us both. "I know you like it. Work for it, baby. That's it."
"Daddy," she whimpers when she goes bust on the next hand.
"That's it, baby girl. Who's the best?"
"You are, Daddy. Always you. Fill me up, Daddy. I want you dripping from me all night."
Zayne grunts twice.
"I feel your cock pulsing inside of me," she says. "Oh, God. I don't want it to end."
"Shouldn't have such a tight ass," he tells her with a sad smile, and I know that's their cue to end the evening.
The man can say whatever he likes to her, treat her like a precious angel while he fucks her, but giving her any special attention after he comes would be suspicious. These women are tools to use and put away until they're needed again.
He can't make it look like he's building a relationship with her. That would only put her on the wrong radar. But he has to know that picking her over and over is going to make people start asking questions. Why choose the same woman every time when you have so many to choose from?
I fully understand now why he keeps going back to her. He may not get this with any of the other women. They'd likely rat him out, but he can't keep picking her.
I hate that I've avoided him for the last two weeks, only putting ourselves alone together in the cabin where we both know we can't speak freely. Bobby has also split us up for a lot of things, no doubt playing the angle he expects will earn him our loyalty and break the familial ties we have with each other.
"Let's get you home, baby girl," he says, standing and offering her hand.
I wave at her, smiling when she waves back at me before leaving the cabin.
Zayne follows her, looking back at me and pointing to the notebook near my hip before stepping outside with her and closing the door behind them.
I don't know how to fucking feel right now. Everything I thought was happening hasn't been. Never in my wildest dreams did I even consider what I discovered tonight.
I lift the notebook, flipping back to the very first page, and start reading.
I can tell she was hesitant to give him any information at first.
He confided in her, confessing that he wasn't like the men here. Putting faith in her that his confession wouldn't get him killed, and only then did she give him a direct answer.
His block lettering: Are you here of your own free will?
Her pretty scripted scrawl: They're going to get suspicious if we don't have sex.
Him: I'm not going to have sex with you.
Her: You don't think I'm pretty?
Him: I'm not a mark, don't treat me as one.
Her: You're going to get me killed. Maybe we could pretend?
Him: Not a chance. I told you I'm not here to hurt you.
Her: Like with words and sounds, not actual actions.
Her: No one is going to believe that's the way you talk when you're horny. Do better.
Her: Better, but a little less, "do you like it?" and more "take it, bitch."
Him: I'm not calling you a bitch.
Her: You would if you were one of them...
Him: Are you here of your own free will?
She doesn't write her response, but the change in his words suggests she somehow answered him.
Him: It won't be much longer. I swear to you.
Her: They'll kill us both.
Him: Do you have proof of him murdering people?
I read on, noting that she knows that women are being held here like her against their will, but she never reaches the point of saying that she was abducted or trafficked, nor does she say that about the other women. I feel like she thinks she can trust him, but hasn't let herself fully believe it yet.
I snap my eyes up when the door opens, realizing just how volatile it is for him to keep a written record of conversations with her. This place could be sifted through at any moment.
I hold the notebook up to him and mimic lighting a lighter under the corner edge. He dips his head, telling me he has plans to do just that.
"She's fucking perfect, man," he says as he walks across the room and pulls the notebook from my hands.
"Gives pretty decent head," I mutter.
I watch as he scribbles something on one of the pages.
Him: I'm going to have to expand. She doesn't have enough details to shut this fucking place down.
I pull the notebook from his hands after reading his words and write my own.