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 mother has been blowing up my phone. I’ve missed two appointments with her and her therapist this week because I was coming all over myself while Saint told me I was his good girl.
So when he canceled on me again tonight, I decided to call Whitney. She’s always up for going out and getting drunk. I’m on my third drink and feeling pretty good. We’re out at the field with bonfires, and I stand in the center of it, looking over at the woods and remembering how he tied me up, stripped me naked, and spanked my ass in front of Kashton and Haidyn.
The Sharpie words have almost faded completely, and the marks from the belt have healed. It no longer hurts to sit down or shower. I want him to do it again. Maybe I’ll ignore him the next time he calls so he’ll punish me.
“Here you go.” Whitney comes up next to me, handing me a new drink.
“Thanks,” I mumble.
“Why are you in such a funk?” she asks, taking a sip of hers. “Don’t tell me it’s over Saint?” When I don’t answer, she rolls her eyes. “He’s not worth it, Ash. I promise you, there’s someone better out there for you.” She takes another sip, and her eyes zero in over the rim of her cup as Tyson Crawford walks by with a group of guys from Barrington.
I take a drink from the cup and then another. My body is begging to get off tonight. In less than a week, I’ve become a needy slut for Saint and my vibrator just like he wants. I can’t imagine what it’ll be like once he can actually fuck me, but I’m looking forward to it.
My cell rings, and I pull it out of my back pocket to see it’s my mother. I press ignore and go to put it back, but it immediately rings again. “Hello?” She’s not going to stop.
“Where are you at?” she demands.
I look around at the party in the middle of nowhere and take another sip of my drink. “Home.”
“Don’t lie to me, Ashtyn. I’m at your house right now.”
I can’t help but laugh. I’m not wasted, but I feel pretty good.
“ASHTYN!” she screams in my ear.
“I’ll be home later.” I hang up and turn off my cell, knowing she won’t stop. I’ll call her tomorrow. Maybe.
I lift the cup to my lips, and instead of taking a sip this time, I suck it down. Holding my breath, I swallow as much as I can and gasp when I pull it away. Looking into the cup, I find it only has a little left, so I down the rest.
Walking over to the table, I set my empty cup down and ask, “Another, please.”
“Have you seen this?” Whitney asks, holding her phone out to me. She’s got her social media pulled up. It’s a picture of a bleach blond. She’s smiling while wearing a black and gold cheerleader uniform. Her bright blue eyes shine, and her bleached teeth sparkle.
“No. Who is it?” I ask, waiting for my new drink.
“She’s gone missing.” She slides to a video, and it shows the girl walking through a parking lot and getting into a white BMW. “This was the last place she was seen.” Whitney goes on. “Found her car two miles down the road from the football field. Abandoned. No purse. No phone. Nothing. It was still running, and the driver’s side door was wide open.”
“Here you go.” The guy hands me a fresh drink, and I thank him.
When we start to walk away from the table, she speaks, “I heard that Adam was the last one to see her.”
I come to a stop with my drink paused at my lips. I frown, shaking my head. “Don’t believe everything you hear.” My brother is a douche, and I hate him most days, but he doesn’t kidnap women. My father would kill him if that were the case. The Lords are too important for him to be fucking his chances. And a Lord involved with something like this would get the Lords’ attention.
A thought hits me, and I think back to the argument my father was having with my brother the other day at their house. And my pulse begins to race. Surely, he’s not involved. I don’t believe it. Adam would never…
I throw back my drink and gulp it down.
Hours later, Whitney pulls up to my house, and I stumble inside. I’m dying of thirst, so I make my way to the kitchen to grab a water.
Flipping on the light, I blink rapidly at the harshness. I come to a stumbling stop when I see Saint sitting at my kitchen table. He’s dressed in his black hoodie, dark jeans, and his mask. The rope he uses to tie me to my bed sits on top of the table in front of him.