Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“She needs a cellphone. There is one in my desk drawer that I had Hannah get for her. Make sure she knows that I’m going to take care of the bill and pre-program my number in there.”
“Are you going to call her?”
Yes, every night so I can jack off to her voice.
“Probably not, but I want her to have my number in case she needs something from me.” I hang up before he can talk me out of my madness, before he can point out how stupid I am being. Lamar shouldn’t be the one to take her to the airport, that should be me, but I can’t. Not today. I need her to leave on my terms, not hers.
In the parking garage, I get into the Ferrari. I had plans to take Macey out in this car, but we rarely left the apartment unless it was to be chauffeured to an event. I didn’t wine and dine her like I had planned to. I fucked the shit out of her until she couldn’t walk and then went back for more.
Nothing I had planned seemed to pan out except the trip to the Hoover Dam, which, after a rocky start, turned out to be a nice day and even more exceptional night. Having Macey dance for me gave me the biggest hard-on I have ever had. My cock was screaming to be buried deep inside her pussy from the moment I took him out of my pants. Pre-cum was seeping over the rim before I could get my hand wrapped around my base. That is how bad I wanted her.
Pressing down on the accelerator, I hit the Strip and head toward the gym, where I know I’ll find Seth with a gaggle of women surrounding him. His title of professional trainer is loose. He’s more like a professional fucker, banging women that come into his gym for help. Each one wants his dick and he happily gives it to them.
I’m not dressed for the gym, but that doesn’t matter. He keeps a stash of clothes in his locker, swapping them out weekly so there’s always something fresh to wear. As soon as I walk out of the locker room, he sees me and nods. I make my way over, smiling at the four or five women that he’s working with.
“Looking lovely, ladies,” I say, much to their delight. I’m a bastard pig, but I know how to give a compliment.
“What are you doing here so early?”
I move my head back and forth, letting him know that now isn’t the time to talk. Usually I’d go to Brady, but because he has a hard-on for Macey, he doesn’t need to know jack shit about her leaving me today.
Seth gives the group of women some instructions and meets me on the bench press. He helps me stack my weights and prepares to spot me. After ten reps, I ask him to add more and he does.
“You seem frustrated. Do you need to get laid? One of the women over there will gladly give it up, hell, one has been begging for a threesome. She wants two guys.”
My hands slip and Seth is there to make sure the bar doesn’t land on my chest, killing me. My conversation with Macey last night is vividly clear; I was describing her with three men and what we’d do to her. The thought of being with any of the women in the gym makes my stomach roll.
“Have you fucked them all?” I ask, staring up at him. He turns his head and smiles.
“Yep.”
“I saw rings on a few of their fingers.”
Seth runs his hand over his perfectly coifed hair. “Yeah, they’re lonely. Husbands don’t pay attention to them or whatever. The one in the blue, though, she’s a freak. You’d like her.”
“No thanks,” I tell him. I can’t judge him for his lifestyle, even though I want to. This is Vegas and the rules don’t apply here. There are more marriages and divorces in one day in Nevada than in any other state. Most people show up to get hitched and are annulling it by the end of the week because something stupid happened. It’s why I’ll never do it. I’ll never cross that line with someone because I can’t trust myself to love enough.
“Where’s your girl?”
“Dunno.” I came here with the intent of telling Seth about Macey, but can’t bring myself to say anything. I suppose some things are better left between the people who know what’s going on.
I finish my reps and excuse myself to hit the punching bag. Usually I’d bring Lamar, but today I’m on my own, which means unfortunately I have to chase the bag around.
Once my hands are taped and put into gloves I start my assault, imagining what Morgan looks like. I punch his ugly mug, repeatedly, decimating his face in the process. In my mind, the fat nose, busted lip and black eyes aren’t enough and I have to pummel his body. He stands there, taking it like the piece of shit he is for whoring out his woman. Does he know what she’s been doing all week? I can’t imagine being such a lowlife that I’d make my woman strip. A man should take care of his woman or let her go.