Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 64640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
“Have a good night, Alaska.” I pull open the door to see her friend is still standing there. Her eyes go wide, and I tip my head to her as I saunter out. While the door slowly closes behind me, I hear her friend ask how it was, and Alaska says it was the best sex she’s ever had.
When I get to the front to wait for my car, I see the crazy waitress from earlier tonight.
She eyes me and steps over. “I know who you are,” she whispers.
My car is pulled around, and the keys are handed to me.
“Good night, Sarah. And by the way, I wouldn’t make threats. Those can get you killed.” I give her a menacing glare as I climb into the car.
“You are a killer!” she screams. “And I’ll prove it.”
I take no mind to her stupid words as I pull away.
All I can think about is Alaska’s sweet pussy and what I plan to do to it next time.
“Why are you smiling?” Kyson asks the following day as he walks into my place uninvited, as he usually does, to annoy me. Kenzo is nowhere to be seen, which is just like him; he would live out his life quite happily if he never had to interact with another human being again. Kyson is a people person, but only with certain people. “Did you find a woman to fuck and kill?” He chuckles to himself as he opens my refrigerator searching for something but coming up empty.
My house is simple with just the basics—there isn’t one thing that’s flashy about it and I’m fine with that. It has gray flooring, two black two-seater sofas, and a television hanging on the wall. I have two bedrooms—one houses only my bed, and the other is the computer room.
“I fucked, not killed. I don’t kill a woman when I fuck her,” I reply, and he raises a brow. “Apart from that one time,” I amend, looking away. “That was her own stupidity, and technically I had already come, so we weren’t fucking.”
“Was your cock still inside of her?” he asks.
“I’m not answering that.”
He starts to laugh as he grabs a bottle of water and comes to sit next to me on the couch. I wait for him to speak because I know that’s what he wants to do.
“Do you think we would be who we are right now if we had a different upbringing?” he asks.
I turn the television off and face him. “Why are you asking me this?”
He shrugs, lifts his water to his lips, and takes a sip.
“Kyson, if you want out, you say it. You know I would kill anyone who tried to stop you from leaving this life.”
“Only Pops would try to have me killed,” he says.
He isn’t wrong. We all trust Pops to a certain extent, but that’s as far as it goes, Pops brought us into this life. He is probably more fucked up in the head then anyone of us, and that’s saying something considering how fucked up we each are. So we know to only trust him in certain aspects of life, not all.
“I’d kill him before he could try,” I declare and turn back to the television, flicking it on again. I ignore the newscast that comes on as I repeat, “If you want out, you tell me.”
SIXTEEN
Alaska
My phone pings, Sage’s phone. When I check it, there’s a picture of Zuko’s hand holding a belt.
Now, I’m not one who is usually attracted to certain body parts—I mean, the abs, face, and cock are nice, as well as the ass. But hands, I haven’t really thought that much of before. I stare down at the photograph as I sit in the back room of the bar. The night’s done, and now every time I walk past the women’s restroom, I can’t help but smile a little bit.
“What has you smiling?” Louise asks as she sits across from me and puts her feet up on the desk.
“Do you think hands are attractive?” I ask.
“Um… Weird question, but hell, yes. Especially if they’re muscly and a few veins pop. Add some plain jewelry, and boom! I’m a sucker.” She throws a Skittle into her mouth. “Why?”
I bring the photograph up and show it to her.
“Shit, those are some good hands. Imagine them roaming all over your body as they pick you up by your ass and grip it tight.”
I check the phone. That’s exactly what those hands have done to me. And it did feel fucking amazing. “You look tired. Everything all good?” Louise asks.
“I haven’t been sleeping much this week,” I tell her honestly.
“Why?”
“Nightmares,” I whisper, keeping my head bowed. They don’t happen often, but when they do, they come in full force. And it’s impossible for me to want to sleep, let alone stay asleep. I thank my second foster home for that wonderful addition to my life.