Total pages in book: 214
Estimated words: 199879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 999(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 666(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 999(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 666(@300wpm)
My fingers run over her hard nipples. I dropped the temperature in this room just for her arrival. I wanted it as cold as my heart is for her. I have to admit, I like that she got them done. They look good.
Walking to the end of the table, I grab the edge and shove her legs apart—the table opening up for me. From the waist up, it’s one piece, but her legs are strapped down individually for this very reason.
The door opens, and I smile at the doctor who is here to help me out with what I’m about to do to her. Devin goes to work with starting her IV. She needs to remain unconscious for quite some time. What I have planned for her will take most of the night.
I remove my devil mask, placing it on the counter and grabbing the rolling chair. I plop down on it, making my way over to the table and slide between her parted legs. Her pussy is wide open for me.
She let that piece of shit fuck her when she got home. I watched it on my phone. I would have been there sooner and stopped it, but I didn’t think she’d actually let him touch her. They’ve been broken up for months. Stupid on my part for thinking that. She allowed a complete stranger to fuck her, so of course she was going to give up her pussy to the guy she lives with.
From here on out for the rest of her pathetic miserable life, I’ll choose which cock fucks her and how they use her. She’s mine and will belong to me until the day she dies.
“She’s ready, sir,” Devin tells me as he tapes the IV in place and looks at me.
I roll closer and reach out grabbing what I need from the cart that sits next to me and smile to myself. When you wake up, sweetheart, you will know where you’re at and who the fuck owns you.
Kashton and I exit her bedroom and walk down the hall as Haidyn’s door flies open. A petite redhead rushes out into the hall, not even bothering to shut his door. She’s carrying a pair of high heels and a bra in one hand, and a cell phone in the other. Her wide tear-filled eyes meet mine before going to Kashton’s.
“Your friend is fucking crazy,” she cries.
“You should be more careful who you go home with,” Kash informs her.
My eyes drop to her white club dress. The cuts on her neck have blood running down and soaking up into the fabric. She’s shaking like a leaf on a tree. Her knees are bruised, and she has rope burns on her wrists and ankles.
“You told him you could handle it,” I remind her. The woman has been trying to get into Haidyn’s bed for months now. He finally caved, and well, it doesn’t look like it was up to par with what she wanted him to be.
We’ve all got our demons, and we each let them play in different ways.
“Fuck you!” she hisses, running past and knocking her shoulders into both of us.
Kashton turns to watch her skip the elevator and rush down the stairs while I enter Haidyn’s bedroom. It looks like a tornado hit it with the sheets ripped off the bedding and broken glass on the floor. A couple of empty bottles of vodka and it smells like weed. The rope is still wrapped around each bedpost and puddled on the carpet. There’s a knife on the nightstand, and the curtains have been ripped from the floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the woods.
I sigh, running a hand through my hair.
Kashton enters and grunts at the scene. “You did the right thing,” he reassures me.
Haidyn isn’t ready for Ashtyn to return. Her leaving left us all with very bad tastes in our mouths. We each paid for her freedom. But Haidyn was dished out the worst when it came to our “training.”
No one leaves Carnage. Ever. Doesn’t matter why or how you got here. Once you’re brought in, you die here. We had to be taught a lesson. One we’ll never forget and one we’ll pass on to her as well.
Kashton slaps me on the back. “I’ll call David.” He pulls out his cell, and I make my way out of Haidyn’s room and down the hall to the elevator.
Making my way to the seventh floor, I walk toward the open door, hearing a feminine voice.
“Talk to me, Haidyn,” the therapist says to my brother as I approach the door.
It’s open so I peek into it, leaning against the doorframe to see him standing at the floor-to-ceiling windows, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. She faces the back of him while sitting in the white leather highback chair. They’re clueless I’m present.