Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 159420 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 797(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159420 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 797(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
He moves his jaw back and forth for a few moments. Then, “My scars.”
I blink. “I don’t have to look at your scars?”
Emotions are flashing through his face, too quick for me to hold on to one and try to understand. When finally he lets one pause, it’s anger, and he says, “Yes, you don’t have to look at my scars.” When I still stay silent because I don’t really know what to say to that or why he’d say that, he explains, “There’s more than one way to fuck, Princess. And missionary ain’t what it’s all chalked up to be.”
I flinch then. And his nostrils flare at my reaction.
I’m such an idiot; of course he’d say that. The man didn’t even want to take his clothes off in front of me. He wouldn’t let me look at his wounds even. And I know him enough by now to figure out what he’s doing. Trying to scare me, but God, he really needs to understand that even if scared, I’m not going anywhere. Because painful or not, I love him and I’m staying. Until I have to leave.
“So how would we do it?” I ask.
His eyes flash with fury and I know it’s because he wasn’t expecting me to take the bait and bait him back. Whatever; he can deal with that too. Then, unhinging his tightly clasped jaw, he goes, “I’d take you from behind.”
My belly flutters. “From behind?”
His mouth pulls up in a lopsided smirk, bitter and humorless. “How about we stop talkin’ about it and you get down on your hands and knees. Show me that wet cunt I can’t wait to fuck.”
I squeeze my thighs together. Squeeze and squeeze and feel my own wetness smearing my skin. Then I say the words that taste so bitter in my mouth: “First, you tell me if this is how you do it. Always, with every girl?”
His frowns at my question. As if he hates me saying those words as much as me, and I’m proved right when he speaks, his words brimming with fury and fight. “You wanna know if this is how I fuck other girls.”
I nod again, even though I want to shake my head and cover my ears. I do not want to hear about other girls from him. I do not even want to think about him with other girls. But I have a point and I’m going to prove it, even if it kills me.
“Fine,” he bites out. “Wasn’t always like this, you know that, right? So before I became a monster, I fucked girls however I wanted. I fucked whoever I wanted. Until I became this.” He clenches and clenches his jaw. “The next time I fucked, it was two years after the accident when I was seventeen. A couple of girls in town made known they wanted me despite my scar, the one they could see, anyhow. Didn’t wanna get involved with ’em, didn’t wanna get involved with anyone. But I was young and horny and hadn’t fucked in years, thought maybe not everythin’ had to change because I’m… So I picked the one I thought looked pretty. We went out, ate good food; I brought her back to my barn. It was all goin’ fine until she saw the scars on my torso. She threw up all over the floor and then took off, tellin’ me what I already knew. No girl wants to get it on with a monster.” He pauses here, his nostrils flaring with his breaths, his chest swelling up and down. “Since then, I only fuck from behind so they can’t see me. And I only fuck when I’ve paid for it.”
“P-paid?”
He lets a moment pass. “Whores. I only fuck whores, Princess.” I let that information pass through me as he continues, “They don’t make a fuss. They don’t expect flowers or dates. It’s simple. Uncomplicated. They get me off. I get ’em off, and apparently, not everyone they go out with does it for ’em. And we go our separate ways.” Then, something that hadn’t occurred to me but clearly did to him: “If you’re worried about catchin’ somethin’ from me, then you should know I’m clean. I don’t ever fuck without a condom. Not before and not after.” Then, shifting on his feet, he adds, “And not tonight either. Told you I’d keep you safe and I will. If we’re doin’ this, I’ve got rubber for you too.”
That’s not my concern. That was never my concern, so I let it go for now as I ask, “When was the… last time you had sex? Free or… or otherwise.”
Somehow this question is even more objectionable than the others and takes him a beat to answer. “Seven years.”
My eyes go wide and I gasp. “That’s… a long time.”