Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 94716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
That just made me pull harder. The asshole didn’t deserve anything for me. I felt filthy. I’d made a vow to Jack, and now I was breaking it by letting this man touch me. It didn’t matter that he was doing it against my will; it was the fact that I wasn’t able to stop it.
What made things worse was seeing my sister high in the corner, off and lost in her own little world.
When she started to come down, Peter would just give her more. This had been going on for three days now, or at least I thought it was three days. It was somewhat hard to tell in this room with no windows. I was just basing it on the number of times they brought me food.
They didn’t want me to be malnourished, because the buyer they had in mind for me wanted a curvy woman.
A hard, open hand slap landed on my right cheek and I gasped. Feeling blood well once again in my mouth, I let it gather before spitting in Peter’s face. He jerked his face back in surprise before reeling back and throwing a punch at my side.
“Oh, bitch. You’re gonna pay. We’ll find another bitch to replace you. I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.”
Peter said just as he smiled and dealt the punishment of my life.
***
I woke in the middle of the night with a start.
My fingers were rubbing furiously over the long scar on the inside of my left wrist.
Bile burned up my throat and poured out my nose as I threw up all over the bed and myself. Jack was on his feet in the next instant, turning the light on to allow me to see. Getting up carefully, I ran to the bathroom with my hand covering my mouth, and a churning stomach.
Jack lifted my hair off my neck and tied it with a Scrunchie that I’d left on the side of the vanity. Then he left the room, leaving me to my dark thoughts and memories. Jesus Christ. That dream couldn’t be real, could it?
The more I thought about it, the worse my stomach got until I was heaving all over again. This went on for over twenty minutes before Jack finally bent down beside me and rubbed my back. By that point, it was all just dry heaves, but that didn’t stop me from trying to throw up my stomach lining.
Turning on the shower with my stomach still revolting, I washed until my skin was pink. Surveying my body, I started to think about the dream, and where each and every scar came from. I’d originally thought it was from being hit by a car after I’d been dumped, but these weren’t just scars anymore. I knew the story behind them now; how each and every bone was broken. Why my face was a shattered mess.
The bathroom door opened, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to avoid the conversation for as long as possible. However, Jack didn’t have the patience, and he asked the dreaded question. “What was the dream about?”
“How do you know it was a dream?” I asked as I cranked the water up higher.
“You were yelling out about cutting someone’s dick off with nail clippers, and wishing that your dream catcher was there to shove that whiskey bottle up his ass.” He said dryly.
I remembered that part, too. I still wasn’t going to tell him about it right now though. I didn’t want him to freak out. Especially since I was still missing some of the details. Mainly, I knew what happened up until the point he’d inserted himself between my thighs. I didn’t know what happened after that, and I wouldn’t say a word about it until I knew the rest. I wouldn’t do that to him. Wouldn’t force him to think about what might have happened.
“I don’t remember. All I remember is a bad dream. Then I woke up puking on myself.”
I grabbed my toothbrush and started brushing furiously. I hated throwing up.
He looked at me as if he knew I was lying, but I wasn’t budging on this. My fingers found the length of my scar again, and Jack’s eyes dropped to study the movement. His jaw tensed, but he didn’t ask; I didn’t tell. I wasn’t ready to tell yet. May never be.
“Did you call Allen?” He asked instead of pursuing the topic.
I grimaced. It’d been two weeks since CC had stabbed me in the leg. The men, Elliott and James in particular, were calling the woman who stabbed me a ‘Crazy Cunt.’ Instead of continuing to use that word, all the women had started using CC, because cunt just didn’t sound good coming out of anybody’s mouth, especially a woman’s.
“Yeah. I’m starting tomorrow. I’ll need to borrow your truck though.” I said as I hopped out of the shower and reached for a towel.
My back was to Jack, but I turned my head and watched him watch me. He followed each stroke of the towel as it dried the water droplets on my body. Heat flared in his eyes, and I bent over to dry my legs and feet. Bending over, I gave him a direct line to the goods, and his control snapped.
Taking two giant steps forward, he hooked an arm around my waist and hefted me up in his arms. I thought he was going to take a shortcut and just go for it on the vanity, but he showed his iron control and took me to the bedroom instead.
Tossing me, I landed on the bed with a muttered “oomph.”
I was happy to notice that the sheets had been changed out with my favorite soft ones. Otherwise, that would have been a big ewww. Puke is gross.
He followed me down and dove head first into my slick heat. Each hand traveled up from where he was holding my legs open, at the knees; all the way up until he held each of my lower lips apart with his thumbs. It gave him easier access to my core.