Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
I nudge Lauren again. “Who is the redhead?” I ask, trying to inconspicuously point to the girl.
She looks over and shakes her head as she spears her chicken with her fork. “No idea. She wasn’t in class. Newcomer?”
But if she’s new, what happened to Amani? There’s a dozen of us here. Amani would make thirteen?
I don’t voice this to Lauren though. I don’t want to come across as obsessive and weird on my first day. Honestly, I don’t know why I’m fixating on Amani so much.
Except that I kind of do. The more I think about this, the more I’m not thinking about my actual problems. That proverbial shoe about to drop.
When dinner wraps up, I head to my room to unpack while Lauren, Munawar, and Justin lounge in the common room. I’d like to join them and attempt to be social, but I think the best thing for me is to hit the bottle of Nyquil I picked up at the Vancouver airport and go to sleep.
Except once I’ve unpacked, I can’t find the Nyquil anywhere, or my Vancouver stickers and keychain. And some of my clothes are missing too. I swear I brought my white Stanford hoodie as well as my favorite nightgown (technically, an oversized Miss Piggy T-shirt that I’ve had for ten years and is hanging by a thread), and my black Nike sneakers. Now, all I have are my white ones, which probably won’t last very long in this place considering how muddy it is.
I sit down on the edge of my bed and try to think about where I could have put my souvenirs and decide I must have left them on the seaplane. Luckily, I manage to find a bottle of melatonin and take one of those instead. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to sleep, that my mind will be racing about all the what-ifs.
I do my best to make myself at home. I complete my nighttime routine of taking off my makeup, doing my skin care ritual, and face yoga for my TMJ, before turning off all the lights. I’m about to go to bed when I walk past the window.
I do a double take.
Standing beneath the cedar, lit only by the burning ember of a cigarette, is a shadowy figure. I can feel their eyes on me, even though I can’t clearly see who it is.
They watch me, unashamed, unabashed.
Until they slowly turn and walk away.
And only then do I recognize him.
Kincaid.
CHAPTER 6
I’m dreaming.
I must be dreaming.
I’m on the bed, and the room is so dark. Cold air comes in through the open window, bringing in the scent of cedar and sea and tobacco.
I’m naked, staring at the ceiling, strong, warm hands gripping my hips as they pull me to the edge of the bed.
“Such a pretty pussy,” a gravelly voice says from between my legs. “Such a tight little cunt for such a dirty fucking whore.”
I blush, hot, his words making me as wet as his tongue as he glides it up between my thighs. I want him so badly I want to tear my skin right off.
“Tell me what you want, Syd,” the man says, blowing on my clit until my legs clamp the side of his head. “Want me to lick your sweet cunt until you almost come and have to beg me for it? Get you so wet that you’re squirting in my face? Or is that no longer enough to satisfy you? No. You want my cock shoved up that tight little hole, even though we both know it won’t fit.”
I groan, lifting my hips off the bed, the cool air washing over my body and turning my nipples painfully hard, though it does nothing to quell the fire under my skin.
“I want…” I whisper, voice hoarse, unable to put into words all the things I do want. I want him to degrade me, I want the fear his words bring me, I want that release from all my beliefs. I want his cock and his hands and his tongue. “I want you to tell me to shut the fuck up and take it like a filthy slut.”
An amused grunt. He raises his head, and I raise mine.
I meet his eyes, a dusky blue grey, a gaze that stares right into my soul.
“That can be arranged,” Kincaid murmurs, giving me a deviant smile.
Adrenaline floods through my body at even the thought of it until everything goes fuzzy and eventually black.
Then there is nothing.
Nothing but need, and want, and—
A blaring alarm makes me jolt upright. Panicked, I look around for the source and smash my hand on the alarm clock beside my bed until it silences.
I let out a shaky exhale. Holy fuck. I press my fingers against my neck, my pulse racing. I can’t tell if it was the dream that has my heart leaping or the hella loud alarm clock.