Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 17407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 87(@200wpm)___ 70(@250wpm)___ 58(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 87(@200wpm)___ 70(@250wpm)___ 58(@300wpm)
“We do,” I say, turning her away from me. I bend her over the back of the sofa. I pull her dress up over her ass and pull her panties down to her knees. Pulling my cock out, I run it up and down her ass crack before slamming into her soaking wet cunt. “Fuck, Feb. How are you so fucking perfect?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” she moans, taking my cock like the good girl she is.
It doesn’t take long before I’m filing her with my seed, and her little pussy is coming on my cock. I pull her panties back in place, and we head out.
I have been with Bosco for the last hour; my mind is not on him at all. Feb has been out of my sight for most of that time, and I am anxious to get to her. “So, what do you make of the place, mal’chik?” He asks in his heavily accented voice. It grates me when he calls me a boy in his language, but I also know he doesn’t mean it with disrespect.
“I think this place is a money pit. I am looking around and although it is packed right now, that is due to the concert happening. I went through their reporting for the fiscal year, and they barely break even.” he grunts and nods his head disappointedly. Anxious to get to my woman. I shake his hand and walk away.
I assume she is going to be at the slot machines or the roulette wheel. When I don't see her there, I begin to panic. Did someone kidnap her? I mean, that is not outside the realm of possibility. Who wouldn’t want her for themselves? I am headed to security when I hear her squeal at the blackjack table. “What the fuck!” I say to myself. I see a guy way too close to her, trying to see down her dress. He touches her arm which she slyly moves away from him. He whispers something in her ear, and I can tell it is making her uncomfortable. No one gets to whisper in my woman's ear but me.
Swiftly, I make my way over to them. “Hey, buddy.” I tap him on his shoulder.
“Dude, don’t you see I am busy with this thick piece of steak,” he says, licking his lips. She looks at me shaking her head so only I can see it because she knows what is coming.
“Yeah, That is my woman.” I am trying to not beat his ass but quickly lose that battle.
“Yeah, right,” he says and reaches for her ass. That’s it. I spin him around, and my fist lands on his face. He wobbles back, holding his jaw, blood spewing from his nose. He gives his best shot and swings at me, which I dodge. I double-punch him right in his face before striking his neck. I watch him go down like the piece of shit he is and pull my woman into my arms.
“I can’t fucking leave you alone for a minute, can I?” Her eyes are hazy, heavy like they are when she is turned on.
“Is it wrong that I think that was hot as hell?” she asks, licking her lips. I don’t answer. I just throw her over my shoulder, find the nearest VIP bathroom, slide my card through it, and place her on the counter.
“You’re going to get someone killed with this curvy as sin body, February,” I growl as I push her dress up. She scoots to the edge of the counter and wraps her legs around my waist. Reaching between us, she opens my belt and pants and strokes my cock, before lining it up with her little pussy hole.
“Too bad,” she moans as I push into her.
Yeah, my girl is a troublemaker, but I love it.
CHAPTER
NINE
FEBRUARY
ONE WEEK AND TWO DAYS LATER
Charlottesville, North Carolina, is way bigger than I thought it was. We pull up to a big house in the suburbs and get out. There isn’t anyone on the street, but it’s still daylight. Connall takes my hand in his and we walk up the driveway. He rings the doorbell, and a tall African-American man answers the door.
“You lost? The interstate is two miles east,” he says, going to close the door in our faces.
“Are you Jarrell Collins?” I blurt.
“Who’s asking? You selling something I don’t need?”
“No, sir. I’m looking for my birth father. He donated sperm in the late nineties and my mom’s used it.”
“Well, no darlin’. It wasn’t me,” he says, chuckling. “Come on in. Have some tea. My wife will want to hear the story.”
“Thank you,” I say. We go inside. Every bit of the house that we can see is decorated with apples. Like apples are everywhere. Green ones, red ones, yellow ones, and even pink ones.