Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27014 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27014 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
“Oh no.” I deflate, dropping my finger and letting out a long sigh. “Don’t cry.”
“I’m not,” she says, her voice breaking.
“Listen.” My patience is thin on a normal day, but seeing the traffic and slowing down has me even closer to the edge. “I won’t hurt you.”
She looks down at her hands in her lap, and I come to a stop on the highway. “You go by Iris, right?” I ask and she nods, still not looking at me. “Iris.” I try and make my voice less intimidating, but my size will always tell a stranger that I’m dangerous. Reaching out, I touch her chin, and to her credit she doesn’t pull away. “Once I have you safe, I’ll explain more.” I press my lips together, trying not to lie to her. “I’ll tell you as much as I can.”
“Okay,” she answers softly and nods.
Part of me relaxes, and up ahead I see traffic open up. I’m able to move over and get around the accident then hit the gas. The delay was only minor, but we’ve got a train to catch if I’m going to get her across the border before sundown. As it is, I can’t very well take her looking like I tossed her in a lake, so I’ve got to fix that.
“You need to change.”
“I’m sorry, I must have forgotten to bring my kidnapping bag with me. Can we turn around and go get it?”
I’ll take a smart mouth over crying any day of the week. “Lucky for you I planned ahead.” I use my thumb to point over my shoulder to the backseat of the car. “There’s some jeans and a T-shirt back there with some shoes.”
“They won’t fit,” she says without even looking at them.
“They will.”
She looks at me like I’m an idiot. “We’ll see about that.”
She grabs the bag and opens it up. I see her rifle through it and look at the tags, but she doesn’t say a word. Once she pulls the clothes out she doesn’t argue any more as she looks around the car.
“Where exactly am I supposed to change? I’m guessing you’re not about to pull over and let me out?”
“Not a chance.” I shake my head. “You can do it in your seat. You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.”
Her cheeks heat, and she looks out the window. “That doesn’t mean I want you to see me.”
“Put on the clothes, Iris, or I will pull over and do it for you.”
I’m not a good man and have never been called a saint. So when she pulls the wet dress over her head, I absolutely look.
Her tits are spilling over the top of her strapless bra, and I feel myself get hard. Fuck, she’s too damn young for me to be looking at her like this, but I can’t stop. Holding her over my shoulder earlier gave me an up close view of her round ass, and just exactly how those curves would feel against me.
“Eyes on the road, big guy,” she scolds, and I look away.
She pulls on the faded black T-shirt I found at the thrift store. It’s got the name of a band I’ve never heard of on it, but the way it clings to her makes me a fan. I look down again when she tosses the soaking wet dress in the backseat and her thighs spread on top of the towel. She grabs the jeans and has to lift her hips to put them on, and I think about her lifting them as I fuck her pretty little cunt.
I clear my throat to get my mind off of just how good she’d feel wrapped around my dick. “We’re taking a train to New York,” I say, trying to distract my cock.
“I can’t leave the country.” She slips on the shoes and looks down at them like she’s surprised those fit too. I’m good at my job, and thorough enough to get her sizes right.
“What do you think will happen at the border if you make a scene?” I ask, letting her weigh the risk and rewards.
“The cops will come and save me.”
I look at her and shake my head. “No. They will ask questions, and they won’t be ones you’re prepared to answer. I’ll have all the information along with the paperwork that makes you my ward. It will show them you’re mentally incapable of being on your own, and I’m in charge of transporting you back to your family.” Tears begin to well in her eyes again, and I curse myself. “I’m sorry. I’m used to dealing with hardened criminals, not sheltered little girls.”
“I’m not a little girl,” she says angrily and balls up her fists on either side of her.
“It’s not a bad thing.” I reach out and take one of her fists in my hand. “It means you’re not cold inside like the men I deal with. I need to be more careful with you.”