Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83519 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83519 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
My brows scrunch as I make it back to the spot in town when she first ran her hand up my thigh. I head back out of town, my truck inching along the road as my eyes scan the desert. No cars passed me when I started heading back to her, so this doesn’t make any sense. I guess it’s possible that someone picked her up and turned around to carry her back into town.
I should be relieved with the thought, but it sits heavy inside of me.
Cresting a small hill in the road, there she fucking is, her hair whipping around her, making her look like some fucking ghost that just appeared out of nowhere. As I slow down, the urge to drive right past her again hits me hard.
I don’t understand it any more than I understand the effort she’s been putting in to be near me. Maybe we’re more alike than I want to admit because she seems very keen on being in my path despite what I’ve done to her so far.
I slow to a stop beside her, but she doesn’t immediately reach for the passenger side door handle.
The woman glares at me from the side of the road, her eyes searching my face as if she can determine what will happen if she climbs inside.
I don’t know what she sees, but eventually she pulls open the door and climbs inside.
This time she doesn’t reach for the power button for the radio. She doesn’t taunt me with words or try to touch me.
She’s silent, something I should appreciate, but somehow her silence is unnerving.
I refuse to consider I took things too far.
Hell, I refuse to think at all.
The scent of sex fills the cab of the truck, but I don’t lower the window. I revel in the scent of me still on her skin, riding back into town, the entire time wondering if she even made an effort to get my cum off her skin.
I don’t ask and she doesn’t offer that information.
Chapter 12
Lauren
My body is humming, the emotions so high that my hands are trembling when he pulls up to a gas station to refill his tank.
I want to stay with him. That’s why when he goes inside to pay, I grab my bag and climb out.
I have no clue if he can see me walk away, but I get the distinct feeling that he doesn’t care at all.
It thrills me, the way he ignored me before dragging me out of the truck.
I know it’s fucked up. I know it’s wrong to keep putting myself in these situations, but I can’t seem to help it.
It feels like an addiction, like I’ve somehow managed to form a dependency on the man.
I love it as much as I hate it because I’ve prided myself on never needing anyone. I’ve lived my life alone, and despite having this itch to see how far he’ll take things, I know I can’t stick around. He’s giving me exactly what I crave, feeding into my darkness, and, although punishing in his actions, it’s exactly what I want. I can’t keep it up. I can’t keep seeking him out, hoping he’ll give in to my demands.
I screamed and cried during what he was doing earlier. It’s my mind and body’s natural reaction to those types of situations, but I was also in heaven, enjoying the pleasure instead of getting off on the pain and brutality of it. The change is leaving me feeling off-kilter.
I watch as Angel leaves the gas station, pumps his gas, and drives off without so much as looking around for me. The indifference shouldn’t make my blood pump faster, but I don’t seem to be in control of such things these days.
We drove around for hours in silence after he picked me up on the side of the road, and as I walk down the street, I try not to wonder what it means that he came back and picked me up.
He doesn’t fucking care about me, that’s evident, but there has to be a reason.
Did he want to hurt me again, fuck me again?
If so, he made no overtures. He didn’t look at me a certain way or suggest I suck his dick. He didn’t pull up to a motel and demand I go inside and strip.
He watched the landscape, drove slowly past old buildings, and even drove through a trailer park without a word. When he drove down the same road where he took me against the hood of his truck, he didn’t even bother looking at the side of the road where it happened.
But he picked me back up. It means something even if I refuse to listen to that part of my head.
The bikes parked outside of Jake’s, the local bar, should make me turn around and leave. This is the Cerberus Club’s hangout. If they’re home from work, this is where the single men and Slick, the only single woman in the club, choose to hangout. They go trolling for company, although trolling isn’t the best way to describe it. The women in town flock to this place once the guys show up. Women in town are either looking for a wild night or trying to figure out a way to have a permanent spot at the clubhouse.