Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 85228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
I can't get her out of my head, and it's driving me insane.
Fucking someone isn't supposed to leave me feeling like I'm missing something. When my balls are empty, I'm supposed to be over whatever urge I felt that put me in that situation in the first place. That's how it has always been these last several years.
Emotions aren't something I ever worry about. Although I'm not one to go out and purposely hurt someone's feelings, I don't concern myself with their mental well-being after I leave. We're all adults making adult decisions, and I don't have time for regrets or concern in their aftermath.
I didn't force Caitlyn to do a damn thing. In fact, she controlled the entire situation, and maybe that's the rub, the thing that has left me feeling a little... off.
"First time at Ambrosia?"
I look up to see a stunning brunette standing right in front of me, and it says a lot about my state of mind that I didn't even register her approaching me. It doesn't bode well for my ability to work or keep myself or anyone else safe.
I let my eyes drift up her body, giving her the impression that I might be interested in what she has to offer.
She isn't leaving much to the imagination in her black-and-red lacy lingerie. I can see just how perky her nipples are, and the glint of metal at the apex of her thighs discloses that she's pierced there.
"First time," I lie, having been here four nights straight. I attempt to keep my tone level rather than disclosing just how irritated I am that she's standing in front of me, blocking my view of the rest of the club. "Why don't you kneel there and be quiet?"
She licks at her lips as if I've just made her night before she obeys and drops to her knees beside me.
I can't say her doing it makes me feel any sort of way because I only issued the command to get her out of my line of sight, but having her there makes my presence in this seedy-ass sex club a little more believable.
This club is much different from the one tucked away in the mountains back home. There aren't as many workers walking around, making sure people are obeying the rules.
People are having full-on sex in some of the nooks and crannies, which would be a violation at Catalyst. They expect all penetrative acts that aren't part of a scene on display to take place in the private rooms or in the dungeon. Nothing like that happens on the main floor.
This club in North Carolina is a hotbed for criminal activity. I can't count the number of times I've seen people snorting coke and making small drug deals in the shadows, but Cerberus requires a little more than petty crimes. We don't want to shut down a facility over a line of coke and ruin the chances of catching someone trafficking women or kids.
There's only an hour and a half distance between the two clubs, and it wouldn't surprise me to see people here at Ambrosia that I saw last week at Catalyst. Just the thought of possibly running into her here after what happened on her front porch threatens to make my cock hard.
I reach out, petting the woman's hair because it takes the edge off. Touching her sickens me, and it's just what I need to keep my shit under control.
If I saw Caitlyn walk out toward the St. Andrew's cross in this club, I'd be on my feet in a second, demanding that she leave in the next breath. She isn't really safe in any club, but she'd be less safe here with their lax rules.
"I like that," the woman says, her tone more of a purr.
I pull my hand back, letting her know that speaking violates the rules and that to get what she wants, she has to comply.
She immediately clamps her mouth closed, but I don't put my hand back on her head. Instead, I run my palm down the arm of the couch as if touching her in the first place left something unsavory behind on my skin.
Although she's silent, the music still blares out of the speakers, heightening my anxiety, but I figure this must be my punishment for the lines I crossed the other night.
I was grateful when Hemlock told me to take this job. Instead of driving back home every night, despite it only being a couple of hours away, I opted for a hotel room. It's the only thing keeping me from going to her house and waiting in the shadows like a creep.
Home.
I shake my head, trying to dispel that thought from my mind. It shouldn't be a big deal that I think of the place where all my belongings are as home, but I haven't considered any place home for a very long time. It has nothing to do with moving around and taking jobs all over the United States and never having the ability to settle down anywhere. It has more to do with the emotions and acceptance of what the word home means.