Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Not to mention the life changing orgasm I had dry fucking against her. Fuck. I thought blood vessels burst in my eyeballs I came so damn hard.
She high tailed it out of the bar as soon as the haze cleared though, but fuck, I can’t stop fucking thinking about her. I want to chase her ass down and tie her to my bed for the rest of my life. Naked. Doing things to her that border on illegal.
Definitely immoral.
Not that I’m a fan of morality.
My dick shoots a sticky pulse of cream into my boxers at the thought.
I’ve never been bare inside a woman before but when I think about Lula?
All I imagine is raw dogging my new stepsister until her tits are milky and her belly is ready to pop.
Fucking stunner as she is, but pregnant? Aph-ro-fucking-dite.
Jesus, I’m a mess.
“Fuck you,” I growl at my reflection in the mirror, then hurl the glass at myself, a flash of relief bolting through me as shards scatter to the floor.
Dazed, I move to the navy leather sofa I had delivered a few weeks ago after I destroyed my previous one just like it on the anniversary of my mother’s death.
I destroy something on that day every year. Sometimes it’s a person, sometimes an object.
But, something always dies that day, just like she did. Everyone suffers on that day.
Just like I did.
I drop hard onto the cushions flipping open my laptop. The urge to hurt someone overwhelms me, and right now I have the perfect target.
When my dad showed me the scrapyard, my first reaction was I wanted nothing to do with it. I’m in the motor trade myself. High end repairs and tune-ups. I know nothing about scrap beyond what I pay for parts. But Larry told me to take a look and I had to admit, it was a good investment so I bought in. A quick turnaround, run the competition into the ground and build a new empire.
Running the competition into the ground? That, I understand. You could call it a specialty.
The screen lights up with browser windows, each with multiple open tabs, each one connected to a different sock account on social media, some review website or email. Our scrap place, Metal Heads, only has one main competitor, an old, run down three generation family outfit called Z’s Scrap, not that I’ve paid that much attention. With what I’m doing to them they won’t last long.
I switch to their website and open the contact page, channeling my current fury and self-loathing into an email that would give a sailor a heart attack.
“…find someone near and dear to you, bend her over the hood of my Dodge and pound her like a cut of prime beef,” I say with a dark chuckle as I write the words. Jesus. This is the first time even I’ve been so personal with this guy, and I know why. Because of her. Because I’m imagining it’s me and Lula right now. “I’m going to leave her so she can’t sit down for a fucking week. I’ll make her eyes bulge like one of those stress dolls.”
Before I second guess myself, I hit send and sit back. My dick is tenting the front of my jeans thinking of railing my sweet red-headed sister from behind. About covering that perfect face in spurts of thick cream and watching her clean it off with her finger, sucking it down like it’s cotton candy.
My lip curls in disgust as I think about the message I just sent. What if someone talked that way about Lula? I’d tear them limb from limb. It’s not personal what I do. In another lifetime, who knows, this guy who owns Z’s, we could have been friends.
Even I know by now, this is my baseline. I’ll likely be this bully asshole for the rest of my life. I’ve done more bad shit than most people get through in a lifetime.
Maybe if I’d met Lula ten years ago, things could have been different. She could have changed me. But now?
I lean forward and alt-tab to a different sock account, going to the Z’s Scrap post on Facebook marketplace. I grin when I see a bunch of angry emoji reactions to a flaming comment about how they screwed someone over, they’re cheating f*cks... That’s my doing. Until I started posting, everybody thought their shit smelled like honey, now there are actual genuine accounts repeating what I’ve said about them like it’s the word of God. I don’t even have to do anything to keep this going, but I throw gas on the fire, typing a comment they screwed me over and recommending our yard instead.
By tomorrow, I’ll have this sock shut down and another one open to keep sinking the nails into the coffin.
They’re close to giving up. The anonymous call I made to Standards Division that makes sure scrap scales meet code is coming down on them soon. Maybe give it another week to really hit home, then throw them a lowball offer they’ll cling to like I’ve just tossed a twig to a drowning man.