Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62509 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62509 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
“I can’t help myself. You make me crazy.”
“Shut up! I’m almost…” Carla moves faster as I hold her ass, helping her move. Tuning into her rhythm, I lift her and bring her back down, our bodies joining as one, and soon we’re both screaming as she milks my cock with her sweet pussy. She slows her rhythm and leans in to rest her head on my shoulder. It’s then I realize I’m still in the entrance of my apartment. We definitely didn’t get far, so I carry her to the bedroom, the same one she snuck out of two nights ago, and lay her gently on the bed. My body hovers over hers, and her smell is intoxicating and everywhere. Even in my pillows.
“You’re so beautiful.”
“Stop doing that,” she says and pushes at me to move. I don’t.
“This is an arrangement. Don’t go doing this.” She waves her hand from my chest to hers. “None of that is allowed. Sex is all.”
“I can’t tell you how beautiful you are?”
Carla closes her eyes and throws her head back. “No. I don’t want to like you, Whiskey. So stop trying to make me.” She pushes at me now, and I fall off her to the side.
“You don’t want to like me. Is that a joke?” I ask her, confused.
Carla sits up, pulling her skirt down. “No. I’d like to stay not liking you. And so far, I’m doing a great job of it.”
“Fucking hell.” I shake my head while removing my clothes, pulling at my torn shirt. “And they say I’m heartless.”
“Oh, don’t pull that act with me. Mr. I Am Going To Buy You A Bar So I Don’t Get You Fired And Fuck Up More Of Your Life.” Carla’s eyes roam my naked chest and settle on my cock, which is still hanging from my pants.
“That’s one hell of a name! But honestly, do you really think that’s why I bought it?” I ask her.
“Yep,” she answers, sounding positive.
I step back from her, putting some space between us. I was contemplating going easy on her. Maybe telling her the reasoning and ending all of this. But now, maybe not.
“Are you going to say something else?” Carla stands, so we are face-to-face. “Want to lie to my face?”
“I like you, Carla. Well, I did until two seconds ago.”
“Two seconds ago, are you kidding?” She pushes away from me, shaking her head. “I need to go. I can’t be around this toxic shit. Or around you.”
“So, now you’ve got the time cut down, you want to run?”
“Now you’ve been fucked you want me to stay?” she ricochets back to me as she keeps on walking.
“Yes, fucked. That’s all your good for, right?”
She stops. Turns. Her face red and angry. “I fucking hate you, you selfish prick.”
Reaching for her, I grip her wrists and pull her to me. “Do you really, though, rich girl?” I ask in a much softer tone.
The anger swarms in her green eyes as she leans in close. “Yes. Now let me go.” She tries to pull free, but I don’t let her. I hold her tighter and put my other arm around her back, pulling her to me, so our bodies touch. My cock’s still out and is now hard because I’m touching her.
“Kiss me, rich girl.”
She spits at my face and tries to pull away again, but I won’t let her. Leaning forward, I take her lips in a kiss. She doesn’t open. Instead, she tries to fight me. I demand her to kiss me, my lips are hard as they press against hers, but she doesn’t open. Not once does she kiss me back, and when I pull back there’s tears in her eyes.
Shit! I drop her arm and remove myself from her. I never want to see her cry, no matter how cruel I am to her. Never.
“I hate you, Corton Whiskey.”
And I believe her.
I believe it with every part of me that, right now, she hates me.
And I hate myself even more for making her this way.
Carla turns, her red hair a mess as she walks to the door and doesn’t once look back at me.
The minute she’s gone, I grab the closest thing to me and smash it to pieces.
It’s ironic that it turns out it’s the photograph of my father.
He’s the sole reason I’ve targeted her to begin with.
30
Carla
Emma’s hand soothes down my back, rubbing it to try to calm me down. I can’t stay calm, though. I’m angry, upset, and want to hurt Whiskey the same way he’s hurting me.
This isn’t fair.
None of this is fair.
He doesn’t play fair.
“Just don’t have sex with him again,” she says. “I’m sure he can’t change the contract now.”
Taking a long sip of straight vodka, which burns all the way down, I shake my head. “I don’t even want to see him again. The thought of his hands on me…” I take another sip. Emma removes her hands, so I turn to face her. She’s thinking. “Say it, Emma.”