Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 354(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 354(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
“I know where she is. I know where to find the man who is running this entire operation. The silent partner. The monster behind the curtains. There’s only one problem with that ...”
“What’s that?” Samson asks, his voice rough.
“He terrifies me.”
“We’re not goin’ to let anything happen to you, if you’re helpin’ us, you’re protected.”
I laugh, bitterly, and take another shot. “If only I believed that.”
Silence again.
“You might not believe them, but you can believe me. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe because you can lead me to my daughter. You have my word on that.”
I look to him, and my eyes travel over his rugged face. “Do you want to fuck, Samson?”
My words come out blunt, and without emotion.
I lost emotion a long time ago.
If I want something, I ask for it.
If I don’t, I walk away.
My life is black and white, as black and white as it can be.
I’m not here to play games—I’m here to complete something important to me and then move on.
Get away from it all forever.
That doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun in between, right?
Samson stares at me, and his eyes flash. “You always so forward?”
I shrug. “I know what I want, I ask for what I need. Do you have a problem with honesty, Samson?”
He narrows his eyes, and his gaze hardens. “You really are fuckin’ dead inside, aren’t you?”
“Are you going to answer my question, or will I go and find someone else who will?”
He stands and nods his head.
Very good.
I stand too and, without a word, I follow him into the back rooms after going down a long, dark hall. The music fades the farther we walk, and when Samson walks into an empty room with stacked chairs and tables, he turns to me. I don’t waste any time, I’m not here to kiss and make love, I’m here to fuck and do it hard.
I don’t want an attachment.
Or feelings.
Or anything else but the hard, throbbing cock of a man inside me.
That man, tonight, is going to be Samson.
He steps forward and his hand moves toward me, before curling around the back of my neck and pulling me forward. His lips are so close to mine I can feel his breath. I murmur, “I don’t want affection, or foreplay, or touching. I just want sex. Don’t waste your time giving me anything else.”
His eyes lock onto mine, and then he spins me around without hesitation and slams me up against the wall. My hands press against the cold surface and my body comes to life, aching in ways that make me crave what’s about to come next. Samson jerks my pants down, and I shuffle until they drop low enough on my legs for him to get access. Shuffling sounds can be heard, and the ripping of a condom wrapper, and then he’s there. Right at my entrance, cock hard, thick and ready to bring me a moment’s relief from the emptiness in my soul.
He plunges inside me, his hand going up until his fingers tangle in my hair. His other hand finds my hip, and he uses it to guide his thrusts, which quickly become rough and powerful. I moan as the ache deep down inside me rises to the surface and pleasure rips through my body. Samson knows how to fuck, and he knows how to get a woman exactly where she needs to be.
He releases my hip and presses his body against mine so he’s able to reach around the front to find my clit. He rubs in slow but deep motions and I cum within minutes. My cries fill the room, and I couldn’t care less if anyone hears them. I let my pleasure echo through the near empty space and together with Samson’s panting and low grunts, we make quite a song.
Samson finds his release minutes after my own, and with a raspy hiss, he slows his thrusting and carefully releases his body from mine, not fully pulling out, but letting me go and taking his weight off my back. A moment later, he pulls his cock out. I reach down, pull up my pants, and turn around to see him ripping the condom off before tucking his cock away and doing up his jeans.
“Thanks,” I murmur, turning toward the door.
“Aviana,” he calls when I reach it.
I look back at him.
“Don’t let that bitterness eat you up, it’ll kill you.”
I smile, low and empty. “Too late for that.”
Then, I leave.
3
THEN – COHEN
My hands tremble as I look at the bodies on the floor, blood soaking into the rich fucking carpet. The gold swirls are no longer, instead they’re red, a dark, angry red. The men have started to go a paleish sort of blue, and I know, soon, their bodies will begin to decompose.