Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83519 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83519 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
She put herself in this fucking situation.
I know her game.
And fuck her twice for making me give in to it.
She wants this, the abuse, the power and control I have over her.
This is the shit she gets off on, and I played right into her damn hands.
It doesn’t matter that my balls are tightening, that the warmth of her mouth is somehow better than any I can ever remember feeling. She forced me into this. She’s getting exactly what she wants.
It makes me weak, malleable, easy to manipulate.
The urge to shove my cock so hard and so deep that she gasps her last breath on my cock is almost too strong to ignore, but I manage, barely.
I pull her off of me, my eyes pinned to the road in front of me, and when she doesn’t say El Salvador, I push her back down, loving the tightness of her throat.
Her fingers dig into my thighs as she struggles to breathe, and I know she’s trying to determine my rhythm, attempting to determine when I’ll shove down, when I’ll allow her a breath, so I keep changing it up as my eyes search for a place to park.
I don’t know that I’ve ever been angrier while getting sucked off in my life, but I’m just as repulsed at the situation as I am in desperate need to see the end of it.
My truck tires skid on gravel as I pull over to the side of the road.
The area looks secluded, but that doesn’t mean that it’s completely deserted. Someone could drive past at any time and bear witness to what I’m about to do, but I also can’t seem to stop myself.
After the shit she pulled in the diner earlier, I have no doubt she’d get some stranger involved in whatever this fucked-up side of her craves.
She could just as easily claim rape as come on my dick, and I hate that I can’t seem to agree with the reasonable side of my brain right now as I slam the truck in park and climb out.
I drag her behind me, unconcerned about the center console or what kind of bruises are going to be left behind on her body once I’m done with her.
Seeing the bruises on her throat in the diner fucking turned me on. I know how they got there, how hard she creamed on my fucking dick last night when I was marking her up.
The bitch is fucking crazy, and maybe a man that was completely in his right mind would take pause, try to get to the bottom of what she does, try to figure out why she seeks this kind of attention, but that would mean caring. I don’t give a shit about Lauren Vos other than wanting to hurt her, punish her for what I endured because of her inaction.
She must think of me as lower than the scum of the earth, no better than the men who she was going after in El Salvador. It’s why it was so easy for her to step over me and leave me for dead. I have news for her, death was more desirable than what actually happened after she walked away.
“Don’t fucking cry now,” I hiss, locking her face in the grip of my hands as she struggles to stand.
I know pressing her to the front of my truck really isn’t going to camouflage what’s going on, but it puts my back to the barren field, providing me with the opportunity to see what’s coming down the road, hopefully before a driver can spot us.
“You better fucking stand,” I hiss in her ear as her knees grow weak. “I’ll fuck you into the dirt if I have to.”
I don’t ask her to remove her clothes this time. I know she won’t move fast enough for me. Instead, I reach around and force her zipper down, throwing the pull tab to the ground when it comes off in my hand.
“Please don’t,” she cries, her words coming out on sobs I ignore. “Angel, stop!”
There are only two words that mean a fucking thing to me right now, and even if she says those words, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.
Threads snap, the sound somehow louder than her cries as I move her clothes out of the way enough to give me access to her cunt.
With my hand still tight in her hair, I press down on her back with my free hand. It leaves her in an awkward position that I know can’t be comfortable, but I’ve never been concerned with her comfort. She’s a hole to fuck and nothing more.
“This what you wanted?” I snap, pulling my jeans down enough that my zipper isn’t resting uncomfortably under my sac.
She shakes her head as much as my grip will allow, her tears dripping from her eyes and flowing over the hood of the truck.