Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
The other day, I saw this cute tabby for a routine check-up. She belonged to Ava, a teacher at the local high school who’d been coming to the clinic forever.
Nothing was wrong with the cat, but something was definitely wrong with Ava’s ex, who was suing her for every dollar he’d ever spent on her—including the twenty bucks it had cost him to build her cat a fort out of cardboard boxes.
That’s not even the worst, though.
I’ve treated a Beagle that had been poisoned—deliberately. The dog belonged to a new girl in town. Her name was Jessica and someone obviously didn’t like her. That was infuriating. I still can’t believe someone could do that to an innocent dog.
Unfortunately, unlike animals, people can be petty and vengeful.
Sometimes, I feel like jumping in to help my fellow townspeople in need. Maybe there’s something I can do for people like Ava and Jessica.
I should get more involved in the community or something. That’s what’s so good about living in a small town, right? The sense of community? And I’m missing out on it.
I’m thinking about hosting some of the regular meetings in the neighborhood. Jessica told me they were great for meeting people.
On the other hand, I’ve been extremely busy. So many things have happened over the past year.
For example, the lawsuit.
After consulting with an attorney, Luca and I decided to sue the hospital that treated Peter.
Neither one of us wanted anyone else to go through what he did, so we aimed to raise awareness of the unfair treatment that former drug addicts get in the medical system.
We’ve managed to get the story into multiple national newspapers. The hospital is offering us a sizeable settlement now, and we’re still deciding on our next step.
Maybe we should take the money and hold an exhibition for Peter’s artwork. Or, maybe we should donate it to struggling rehab centers. Or, we can also keep the lawsuit going and generate more awareness. With a lot of luck, maybe we can make some changes in the system.
The tattoo machine stops buzzing, and I let my thoughts dissipate into thin air. The sharp pain has forced me to go somewhere else in my mind, but now there’s only the dull sting of a fresh tattoo.
I remember this feeling from when Luca gave me the cat tattoo on my wrist—it was both a symbol of independence and something from home I could always carry with me.
This tattoo, though, stands for something else.
“All done, doll.” Luca’s voice is dripping with lust.
I may have been the one to come up with the idea to get a tattoo, but obviously, he enjoys branding my skin and watching me go through this pain, too.
I look down at my outer thigh, where one word is written on my skin in black ink. The skin underneath the fresh tattoo is raised and angry. The cursive script looks girly and flirty. It sits near the top of my thigh, so most people will never get to see it—except Luca . . . and medical professionals, I guess.
I read the word out loud. “Doll.”
“That’s right. That’s what you are,” Luca says darkly as he takes off his black gloves. He climbs up onto the bed and sits between my open legs. His hungry eyes are fixated on my soaked pussy. “You’re so wet you’re dripping onto the bed. What kind of a doll gets this dirty?”
“I’m sorry, Sir. I’m a bad doll,” I say.
“That’s right. And bad dolls get punished, don’t they?” Luca yanks his clothes off in record speed.
“Yes, Sir.”
Every time I see those six-pack abs and the V-shaped ridge just underneath, I get the urge to lick him all over. I still can’t believe I’m lucky enough to call this hot, tattooed hunk my husband sometimes. My gaze drops to the thick, hard cock in his fist.
Luca hovers over me, making my heart pound. My hands are restrained to the bed with handcuffs, while my legs are spread wide apart by a metal bar that’s attached to loops around my ankles.
I’m completely helpless. Utterly at Luca’s mercy.
“This may not be fun for you, doll, but I don’t care.” Luca’s eyes glint dangerously as he presses his shaft against my pussy lips. Keeping his eyes on me, he grinds against me, sliding up and down my petals.
Instinctively, I whimper and lift my hips up off the bed.
“What’s that, doll? You want me inside you?” he asks.
“Yes, Sir,” I moan.
“Okay.” Luca pushes against my opening, and I hold my breath. But instead of spearing into me, Luca stays still. His fist wrap around his shaft and he jerks himself off with just the head of his cock inside me.
“Please, Sir,” I beg. “Please . . .”
“I’m inside you, like you wanted,” he teases me.
“Please . . . I want you all the way inside me.”