Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 25708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
Cash
I don’t have to search for her profile on Instagram, because I never close it.
It’s always open on my laptop, her angelic image probably burned into the screen by now. Every single picture she’s ever posted has been memorized down to the tiny flyaway hairs around her temples, the position of her fingers, the amount of cleavage she’s showing.
Scout Snyder is my fucking obsession.
The first and last one I’ll ever have.
And she went to the movies last night.
Jealousy sears my skin like a raw steak being tossed onto a frying pan. The sensation is so unholy that I lean back in my chair with a hiss, my fists slamming down on the table and bobbling the laptop. It doesn’t matter that Scout only went to see a movie with some girlfriends—I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there to sit in the shadows and protect her, because I had a goddamn baseball game. I always have a game these days, but my mind is never on the sport anymore. It’s on her. Where she is, who she’s with, what she’s wearing and how I’m going to maul her when I finally snap. I’m so distracted by my deranged thoughts that my coaches are beginning to whisper about it when they think I don’t notice.
Not good. I’m on scholarship.
This is my final year to be scouted by the major league.
But ever since my college best friend introduced me to his younger sister, little miss Scout Snyder, I’ve been burning alive. Before the season started this spring, my nights consisted of following my freshman target from her dorm to the library to parties where I pretended to run into her. Oh, she would laugh, my honorary big brother is here. Meanwhile, I was putting the word out to every man at the party that she was forbidden to them.
Just being a good honorary big brother, right?
Looking out for my best friend’s kid sister.
Wrong. If any man besides myself ever lays a finger on her, I will dismantle them limb by limb. Murder. It’s something I never expected myself to be capable of. Ever. I’ve always considered myself to be a normal, all-American jock. I’ve dated girls my whole life, never getting attached to a single one of them. I’ve always been easygoing. The only thing I cared about was baseball. Making it to the pros.
The second Scout waltzed into my life, everything changed.
It’s almost like she has altered my psychological makeup.
I’m not normal anymore. I’m…
A stalker.
I stalk her. I break into her dorm in a hood and a surgical mask just so I can run my fingers through her panty drawer. Lay down where she sleeps. I write her letters. I email her anonymously, informing her that if she dates another man, I will paint the campus in their blood. How else am I supposed to tell her? In person?
No.
She’s my best friend’s little sister. And I don’t think that fact alone would be enough to stop me when I need a girl this fucking much. But these aren’t normal circumstances. I’m her stalker. I’ve been following her around for seven months, taking pictures of her…
Terrorizing her.
If I take Scout on a date, it’s over. I’m never letting her go.
I wouldn’t be a typical boyfriend. I’d ruin her life.
I’d keep her under lock and key. I’d be even more of a maniac than I am now.
Still, just the thought of being Scout’s man has me leaning back in the chair, tugging the hem of my T-shirt up to my throat and working down the zipper of my jeans. With my cock out and pulsing against my bare stomach, I quickly scroll to one of my favorite pictures. Scout at the lake on her family boat eating a grape popsicle, her plush lips wrapped around the frozen treat, her green eyes sparkling with happiness. She’s wearing a big cover-up T-shirt with a crocodile on the front, but her thighs are spread and there it is, just a tiny hint of her bathing suit bottoms.
The wet pink and white stripes that hug her virgin cunt.
I know it. I know she’s a virgin.
Fifty-six days ago, I hugged her a little too long at a party. I lifted her off the ground and let my lips brush over her cheek and she blushed like a tomato. Could barely look me in the eye afterward. Goddamn. Would she blush while I fuck her?
My expulsion of breath is loud in the kitchen, that first mean stroke of my fist causing my booted feet to shuffle on the floor.
“Come here and sit on my lap, Scout,” I demand through my teeth, picturing her wide green eyes, her indecision, but ultimately her trust and compliance. She trusts me completely. It’s the ultimate joke. “No, not like that. Face me.” She gasps and I reach up, in my mind, tangling my fingers in her blonde hair. “Sit down on my fucking lap. Legs wide open. Cunt to cock. Apologize for going to the movies without me. Rub yourself on my dick until I accept.”