Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
I followed suit, taking a few huge mouthfuls, then handed it back to him so I could work on his cuts. I could feel Tank’s eyes on me the entire time. “There,” I said and took another few swigs of vodka. I lifted my hand and stroked the shank scar.
“Prison fight?”
“More a Klan goodbye.” My eyes widened. “Should’ve helped in a prison killing. I didn’t. This was my reward.”
“Shit, hon.” I shook my head and sat down beside him. “So? The Klan after you now or something? Is that why you ran?”
“No. I have a buddy who helped me leave. My best friend. He got them all off my back. Didn’t expect it.” He took the vodka again and slugged it back. The room was starting to spin . . . I loved this feeling.
It made me horny as fuck.
I lay back on the bed. Tank looked at me and leaned back too, resting on his elbow. He had questions in his eyes. “You going back?”
“Fuck no,” I said, and smiled when Tank immediately handed me back the bottle. I must have had a desperate-for-alcohol tone in my voice. I sipped at the good stuff and shuffled closer to Tank. I stared at a huge SS sign in the center of his chest. I reached out and traced the black lettering with my finger. His skin bumped under my touch. When I looked up at his face, he ran his tongue along his lower lip. I liked it. So I kept circling the letters. “My mamma is a psycho. She always has been. But it got worse when my papa died.” I lifted my tank and showed him my stomach. Tank’s eyes hooded at the sight of my body, and I saw his dick harden in his jeans . . . until I lifted it high enough for him to see. He froze when he saw the purple bruising. “It’s amazing what makeup can cover these days.” I licked my thumb and ran it down the side of my eye. I knew the makeup would’ve given way to that bruise too. Just as I was about to lower my top, Tank ran his fingers over the skin on my ribs. I bit my lip, but not at the pain. It was at how much my pussy throbbed under his touch.
Those fingers, the vodka, and the sight of his muscles and tattoos were fucking turning me on. I was a girl with a healthy appetite. Liked to get my pussy stroked and filled. And right now, I was getting real messed-up thoughts about Tank.
“Why did you stay?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t want her to be alone after Papa. His death destroyed her. She had a shitty life growing up. Wasn’t much better as an adult. I wanted to make it better for her. She wanted me to be Miss America so bad. So I went along with it all to make her happy. Devoted my life to it, hoping she’d just love me, treat me better.” But that sympathy I’d once felt for her no longer existed. “Now I’m done giving a shit. That bitch can rot in hell. There are only so many chances someone can have before they deserve nothing else.” Tank’s fingers started moving across my stomach . . . and lower. My breathing hitched. “You going somewhere with that finger there, darlin’?”
His lip kicked up at the side. “You’re fucking beautiful, beauty queen.”
I took hold of his hand and sat up. Tank watched every movement I made. The guy had been locked up for three years. He got out two days ago. He must have been bursting for a fuck.
I kissed each finger, then, when his mouth was just an inch from mine, pushed his hand to the crotch of my jeans and said, “I like having my stomach stroked as much as the next girl, darlin’, but I’d rather feel those fingers all up in my pussy.”
Tank paused, his mouth parting at my words. Then he did exactly as I said. He ran his fingers over my jeans, cupping my pussy through the denim, the feel of his fingers between my legs sending shivers all over my body. I hooked my hand around the back of his neck, and our mouths crashed together. I tasted the slight tinniness of blood on my tongue, but it disappeared, taken over by tobacco and liquor. Tank didn’t give me the control for long. He rolled me onto my back and smothered me with his huge muscles. I wrapped my legs around his waist, arms clasped around his neck. Tank’s tongue fought against mine, our breathing heavy.
The alcohol sailed through my veins. Breaking from his mouth, I moved to straddle him. He smiled as I sat on his waist and looked down. “How old are you, darlin’?”