Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81581 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81581 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
“Get dressed, Letty Spaghetti,” he chirps, melting me with one of his charming grins. “We have errands to run.” My melting quickly turns cold. I’m frozen. Errands. Errands mean trouble. Errands mean pain.
“I’m not feeling so well,” I rasp out, my voice still hoarse from being choked unconscious.
His glare is severe as he tosses me a pink scrap of spandex material. “It wasn’t a request. It was a demand. Make yourself pretty. You’re looking like a strung-out whore.”
I wince at his words more than his tone. I look like a strung-out whore because he made me that way. If I were to look in the mirror right now, my pale, haunted face would stare back. My normally bright brown eyes would be dull from whatever pill he stuck on my tongue before he stripped me down earlier. Dark circles would ring my eyes from either lack of sleep or from one of Vaughn’s “lessons.” And my full lips would be chapped from overuse coupled with malnutrition.
I’ve spent eleven months with this man and I can’t seem to pull my head out of the red fog that follows him long enough to straighten out my life. Not that he’d let me go anyway.
His hand tangles in my hair, and I’m dragged out of the bed to my feet right in front of him. Even furious and impatient and on the border of psychotic rage, Vaughn is a glorious vision. He pins me in place with his piercing glare—a glare that promises pain and punishment and, one day, death.
“I love you,” he seethes. I believe him. I truly do. “But right now, you’re pissing me off.” His free hand grabs my bruised and bare ass hauling me against his erection. “We have shit to do, so stop dragging your feet.”
I try to nod at him, but his grip in my hair prevents me from doing so. A small yelp of surprise escapes me when he hauls me over to the end table beside the bed. He rummages around until he finds what he’s looking for. Little happy pill. I can’t help but smile.
“Good girl.” He grins back before shoving it into my mouth. I gag but swallow it down. Within minutes, I’m needy, and the dress he helps me put on is too much. Too clingy. Too scratchy. Too much. The urge to seek out pleasure consumes me. I claw at his chest and plead with him to fuck me again. His kiss is gentle but the way he cups me between my legs is not. “You’re going to get fucked,” he assures me with a cold growl. “I told you we had errands.”
I can’t find the sadness that usually plagues me. No tears well in my eyes. I’m not even upset as he guides me out of his shitty house to his suped-up sports car that doesn’t fit well in the ghetto neighborhood. It’s the kind of car that should get jacked or broken into, but nobody touches it. Nobody touches anything that belongs to Vaughn Brecks unless he says they can. Unless they pay him whatever his asking price is. Otherwise, they won’t live to see another day.
I’m blitzed out of my mind, squirming and begging the entire drive to wherever it is we’re going. He teases me with gentle caresses to my bare thigh and brief rubs against my clit where I’m naked under my dress. By the time we roll up to a high-end condo building, I’m dripping with need.
“You ready to make us some money, sweetheart?” he questions, his grip tightening around my thigh. I’ll be bruised, but right now it feels good. Any touch feels good.
“I thought I was yours only,” I pout through my haze.
His face becomes murderous. “Of course you fucking are. This is just business, baby. You belong to me. Not this rich fucker who wants to get his dick wet because his fat wife won’t put out.”
As terrible as they are, his words warm me. They warm me so much that I’m on fire by the time we enter the glitzy condo where the client awaits. Vaughn’s grip on my bicep is possessive, but he still hands me over to the man. Accepts a wad of bills and gives me a slight push toward the foreign man with the large stomach. I squint to try and figure out his nationality, but as soon as the door closes behind Vaughn, the man is on me. He paws at me like I’m the first Christmas present he’s ever received. And the shit Vaughn gave me has me buzzing with desire. I want to ride this ugly man with the black mustache and beady eyes. I want to grip his greasy hair and fuck him while I think of my boyfriend.
Vaughn’s steely grey eyes are at the forefront of my mind as the man manages to push my dress up my hips and bend me over his expensive dining room table. He fumbles with his pants. Then I hear the familiar tear of a condom. Always condoms. At least Vaughn looks out for me. And then the man’s thin penis is inside me. He’s taking what doesn’t belong to him, and I don’t care. I let him because he feels good. His reverent touches running up my back. The way his hairy balls slap against my pussy. Nearly inaudible grunts from an unfamiliar man.