Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
“Cut the bullshit and tell me!”
“Twitch,” I blurt out.
“Bless you.”
Bursting into laughter, I repeat, “Twitch. That’s his name. Twitch. The man who watches me. The guy who saved me.”
Leaning away from me, her face bunches. Smiling, I nod. She asks incredulously, “Stalker dude is called Twitch?”
“Yep.”
After a second, she mutters under her breath, “Fuckin’ hippies.”
Another bout of laughter bursts out of me. “That’s not his real name, babe, it’s just what he calls himself, and from what I’ve seen, it’s what everyone else calls him too. He doesn’t want people to know his real name, and for now, that’s cool with me. He’s part owner of a business – a big business – so I know it would be easy enough to find out but,” my brows furrow and my lips purse a little, “it’s important to him for some reason. So if he doesn’t want people to know, I’m not going to go looking. Not until he tells me himself.”
Looking up at Nikki, her eyes on me feel more like an interrogation and I know I’ve fucked up. Suddenly, her eyes widen comically, she leans forward, and hisses, “You fucked him!” When my brows almost hit my hairline, she gasps, “You skank! You dirty hooker skank face! When did this happen? And more importantly, was it any good?”
Both taking our places on the sofa once more, I lean back into the soft cushion. “The other night. I don’t know if it was me reclaiming my sexuality and not letting my attacker have that stupid hold on me or if it was just…” sigh, “…just Twitch. I can’t really explain him to you. It’s something you have to experience. He likes control and he’s not afraid to let people know that. He can be so fucking arrogant and annoying one second, then the next second, he has you wanting to take orders from him. He’s intense. And kinda scary. And I want to know him better. So I’ll bide my time and do what I have to to make him open up to me.” Frowning, I look up into her eyes and tell her quietly, “Something bad happened to him, Nik. I can feel it.”
Her eyes turn sad. “Oh honey. I’m glad you’re safe and all, but can you really trust this guy? You barely know him, and you just said yourself that he’s kinda scary.” When I try to speak, she cuts me off with, “I trust you. You’ve never made a bad decision in your life. I know this. We’ve been through a lot together. And maybe you’re right. Maybe he needs someone. But I don’t want you to make him a project. You have to stop worrying about protecting everyone around you, and start protecting yourself.”
Staring eye-to-eye, a small smile breaks out onto my face as I whisper, “He’s a freak in bed.”
Her body shakes with silent laughter. “Oh, I gotta hear this. Do tell.”
My belly flutters.
And suddenly, I can’t wait until Saturday.
I don’t know if I can do this anymore.
The urge to touch her is overwhelming.
Never being one to deny myself, I allow my fingertips to glide over the silky skin of her shoulder.
Waking to feel of rough hand on my upper arm, panic sets in only a moment before I smell him.
My tense body relaxes almost immediately. The darkness of my room allows me to fake my sleep a little longer, savouring the gentle sweetness of a touch reserved for his private moments. Moments like these are fleeting. I know he would never touch me like this had he known I was awake.
The CD player on my dresser still on low volume, I’ve never been able to fall asleep without the TV or music playing. Something I took with me when I left home. As a child, I needed something to drown out the constant shouting and bickering. Music worked. And it stuck.
When the fingertips on my arm move away, I feel like crying. I want them back.
I want him.
Desperately.
The sounds of clothes being removed make my belly flutter, and I fight the urge to cheer and clap. The covers lift, and he climbs in and over me.
“Twitch?” I ask sleepily.
A long silence, then a husky, “Yeah.” Pinching the material of my tank between his thumb and forefinger, he tugs and says, “Off.”
Stretching, I work on my tank while he pulls off my pajama pants and panties in one swift yank. Then I’m lying naked in the middle of my bed, unable to see much of anything, just a silhouette of a large male body. And that body is stalking towards me, then covering me.
Chest-to-chest, he lies flat on top of me, skin-to-skin. His warm, firm body blankets mine. He presses me into the mattress, putting his weight on me. Putting pressure on me. It’s not uncomfortable, but restricts me. Reaching down, his links his fingers with mine and slowly pulls my arms up over my head. I know what he wants.