Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 87961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
I need to move before I do something stupid like fuck her seven ways from Sunday. She sits up and looks away from me, embarrassment written all over her face.
I grab the comforter and pull it over my lap in an attempt to hide the raging erection currently trying to make bail out of my boxers.
“You sleep okay?” I ask, attempting to make this less awkward, but I’d say nothing is going to help that.
She nods quickly, but stays silent.
“Good.” I hop up and go to the bathroom. I eye the toilet. There’s no way in hell I’m ringing the toilet with a hard-on like this. I stumble to the shower, push the door open, and piss, trying to take a second to calm my dick the fuck down. When I come back in the room she’s laying in the bed, staring up at the ceiling like she’s horrified. I skim over her body, unable to avoid the perfect little dots hiding beneath the thin cotton shirt she’s wearing. This is fucked up. She’s turned on by me, I’m turned on by her. How much more twisted and warped is my life going to get? She notices me staring at her and quickly yanks the covers over her chest.
She huffs, her face blushing a pale, sex-flush pink.
I run my hand over my bare chest and tap my fingers over the muscle. Her eyes follow my hand, and she swallows hard before slamming them shut. At this point there’s no reason to try and hide the fact that I was just staring at her. “Sorry. I’ve got a fucking dick, you know?” I shrug and shoot her a cocky grin. Her cheeks darken even more as she dips her chin and stares at the comforter.
There’s an awkward silence. What the fuck am I supposed to do with her? She doesn’t belong in this fucked up shit I call my life. What the hell is she going to do? Stay here, in this house for the rest of her life? What the hell am I doing here? Sleeping with her, fucking making small talk...just fuck me. I’m not made to handle a woman. It’s foreign to me. Am I just going to cart her around with me every-fucking-where? Shit. This entire thing makes my fucking head hurt.
Somebody needs to fucking say something. I narrow my gaze on her. “I’ve gotta go check on something tonight, and I’m not fucking leaving you here.”
“I don’t want to go with you to kill people,” she grumbles.
“I’m not leaving you here with the other guys, so you don’t really have a choice.”
I open the passenger side door, and a chilly breeze swings it back just before she steps out. She looks so confused. Like this is the first time she’s been outside, and I guess, in a way, it is her first time. This is the first time since she was taken that’s she’s been off of my property, the first time she’s been anywhere since she no longer has anything to call her own.
Grabbing her hand, I squeeze it as a reminder of how serious I am. “Now, like I said on the way over here, if anyone asks, you’re a date.”
“Yeah,” she flattens out her shirt. “Great!”
The gravel crunches beneath my boots as we walk across the dim lot. The light from the sign flickers, and she glances up as she swats her hair from her face. “A bloody strip club? This is where you take girls on dates? Wow, keeping it classy.”
“You’ve no idea how classy I am.” I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her into me. She shoots an unnerved look up at me. “Well, gotta make it believable,” I say with a shrug.
The steroid-enhanced bouncer manning the front door nods as he sees us approach. “JP. Haven’t seen you in a while.” His eyes dart down to Tor and his lips curl up. “How come you always have attractive women with you?” Leaning in to her, his voice lowers. His eyes meet mine, and I stare him down as I possessively pull her closer into me. “Don’t you know what a piece of shit he is?” he chuckles.
She feigns a laugh. “I keep telling him he’s an arsehole.”
“A sexy voice too,” he groans, his eyes seeming to reassess her.
I usher her in and we’re swept up by the rumble of dance music. Men whistle and shout as half-naked women twist around poles. I pull her through the group of overweight, middle-aged men gathered around one of the booths toward the hallway leading to the dressing rooms. I push open the door and Tor yanks back on my hand. “Come on,” I say and drag her in the room, pulling the door shut behind her.
The group of nearly naked girls primping and standing in front of the mirrors look over at us. Every last one of them glares at Tor, eyeing her before trailing their gaze over to me and smiling.