Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97418 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97418 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“Jesus Christ, yeah… that’s it.” He grabs the bedpost above my head as he fucks me so hard the bed shakes, or maybe it’s just me as I explode into a million wonderful pieces.
“I love it. I love you coming all over my cock. Milk it out of me.”
He lowers his head as his mouth steals my breath. In fact, he steals my soul. As he jerks into me, his lean hips stop thrusting and his hot seed jets inside me, filling me up, so I can never be empty as long as I have him.
Our foreheads are touching as we both catch our breath and I realize he might be bleeding from my nails. My strength is gone, and I drop my hands with a small thud.
“I think you might be bleeding.”
He kisses my lips. “I hope so,” he says and pulls out almost lovingly. Rising from the bed, he walks to the bathroom and closes the door.
Sighing, I stretch and try to get my rubbery body to move, when all I want to do is close my eyes and go back to sleep. Maybe David will wake me up the same way if I do.
I smile at that thought as I snuggle into his pillow, turning to my side for a moment. His pillow has his scent and I inhale. Clean, fresh spice with a touch of smoke: my new favorite thing.
I think I might have dozed off because I feel his warm lips kiss my forehead as he pulls me into his arms.
“Rest, Beautiful. It’s early.” Sighing I use his chest as my pillow. His heartbeat is strong, and the last thing I remember is how secure he makes me feel—something I never thought I’d need yet can’t imagine doing without.
DAVID/POET
I’m dreaming. It’s the same one I always have. I need to wake up, I want to wake up, but the counting starts and I have to get to them before it gets to a hundred.
If the voice from above gets to a hundred, then we all blow up. Tabatha is crawling, then running and I’m trying to catch her. I need her to stop running because the voice won’t stop counting.
The streets are brick, a red brick, and I hear her crying. I hate this counting and it’s already in the nineties. I turn toward the building I despise.
The voice gets to ninety-nine… I explode.
I bolt up. My breathing is labored as I run my hands through my hair, which is slightly damp at the temples. Jesus, I hate that fucking nightmare. I wipe the sweat off my forehead. The toilet flushes and my eyes dart around the plain beige room as I try to catch my breath and calm my heart rate.
The curtains have been opened slightly. Sunlight spills in blinding me as it bounces off the cardboard boxes.
I seem to keep tossing more of them in the corner rather than unpacking them.
Slumping back, I reach for my chain. My charm needs to bring me back.
I need a fucking cigarette too.
As I reach for my smokes, my mind replays this morning. My dick is standing erect wanting more of her. More of her light.
I’m so disgusted with myself. This shit has to stop. It’s why I had the counting dream—a reminder of what’s important.
Lighting up, I inhale deeply. I’m out of control and she isn’t helping. All I want is to lock the doors and sink my cock into this woman for days, maybe years.
It’s part of who I am. I’ll substitute one addiction for another. Right now, I could easily fall down the pussy rabbit hole.
“Fuck.” I rub my hair, trying to wake up. This particular recurring dream always haunts me for days.
Not once have I ever woken up before that fucking voice gets to one hundred. Turning to my nightstand, I grab my phone and check the messages. A couple are from some guys who are working for me as rats. I’m paying them a fortune, but I take half the shit they say with a grain of salt.
One has some information about his dad and that day. The kid needs money for his mom and his younger brother and sister. The scumbag father was not even that high up in Satan’s Seeds but he was around when all the shit went down. Most of the stuff the kid’s been feeding me is trivial. But a few names he has mentioned might be helpful.
Charlie walks out of the bathroom, breaking my train of thought. She’s almost glowing. My eyes narrow as I inhale deeply.
“You okay?” She looks at me, concerned.
I stand and stroke my cock. It aches only for her apparently. Her eyes zero in on the area between my legs, and I stop before doing something I’ll regret.
“I’m fine.” Grabbing my jeans off the floor, I watch her eyes caress my body as she licks her lips.