Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
“You just gotta make sure to forward any texts to me,” he said.
I lifted a brow. “Is this a drug dealer phone, Bellamy?”
“It’s a business phone, baby girl.” He swept a piece of hair behind my shoulder. “Your dad should like that.”
Laughing, I grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him closer. “I’m sure he will.”
When I pressed my lips to his it was like pure electricity, adrenaline crawling through my veins in a slow burn. Bellamy’s fingers dug into my hips like he would hold me hostage if he could.
At this point, I wanted to let him. He was my escape from my shitty reality.
“How often can you sneak over here?” he asked, his lips still touching mine as a warm breeze circled around us.
“Maybe a couple of times, but he’s not stupid. He’s very vigilant in my imprisonment.”
Bellamy’s jaw set at that. “You do realize you’re eighteen…”
“And completely reliant on him. My phone? He pays for it, so he can take it. My car? He pays all the running costs. I live in his house. Even if I got a job, he’d take the money off me because I ‘owe him’ for my Black Mountain tuition. And my only other option? My mother who lives in France. He has me by the balls.”
And I hated it, hated that this privileged lifestyle had equated to a golden cage. I couldn’t even date who I wanted.
On a heavy breath, he swept a hand through my hair, studying me. “I’ll text you later.”
“I give it a week, and he’ll go on some business trip.”
He kissed me hard, like he was trying to imprint himself on me. I didn’t know when I’d see him again, and that had a little knife digging in my chest. Bellamy made me feel alive, and staying away from him would make my bleak life a whole lot darker.
42
Bellamy
The concept of not pulling your weight was foreign in Dayton.
Growing up, we had little choice not to pitch in by either working or stealing. So the fact that Drew, at the age of eighteen, had nothing that was really hers, blew my fucking mind.
I bought my clothes. I paid for my car. My gas. My phone. And I paid my fair share of bills…
I laid in bed, more aware now than ever of just how different life for all those Barrington pricks was. They were handed everything, and it seemed that was lorded over their heads, used to control and manipulate. Setting them up to be the manipulative little shits they’d undoubtedly turn into, because they had been raised to believe that money was power over everyone around you.
It had been a week since she’d shown up at my house, and thoughts of her occupied most of my waking hours.
Me: Is he ever going to leave?
Two days ago, her dad was supposed to leave for business. And hadn’t. I didn’t realize how much I needed her until she was gone.
Work Phone: He needs to. I can’t take much more
I missed her, but I couldn’t tell her that, so instead, I went with:
Me: My balls are about to rupture
Work Phone: You know your right hand didn’t fall off, right?
Me: No shit. It’s the only reason I’m not dead yet
Work Phone: Do you think of me?
Of course I do. Who else would I think of? I was hard up for the girl. She had to know that.
Me: I go to the picture on your InstaPic page of you on some yacht in a barely-there bikini, and blow my load to that.
Me: Since you never returned my favor and sent me dirty pictures
Me: Selfish-ass
Work Phone: Well, I’d send you something to get through this difficult time, but your ‘business’ phone doesn’t have a camera…
Work Phone: You could always sneak through my bedroom window and take one yourself
Like hell I’d waste time taking a picture. I’d be buried balls deep inside of here within two minutes flat.
Me: I’d take more than a picture…
Work Phone: I know you would
Fifteen minutes later, I parked at the country club and cut across the golf course that backed up to Drew’s street. Then I climbed the wrought iron fence surrounding her back yard.
From there, I could see the silhouette of her dad’s flashy car in the drive. I had no doubt the asshole actually filed for a stay-away order, and I had no doubt he’d call the police if he caught me on his property. So I just couldn’t let him catch me.
Because this--This was bullshit.
I dropped to the ground and went straight to the side of the house, grabbed hold of the latticework and scaled it, climbing over the balcony like some asshole out of Shakespeare.
Jesus, what had my life become?
Through the French doors that led into her room, I could see Drew sprawled horizontally across her bed. Her head hung off the side and her gaze fixed on the ceiling.