Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 128(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 128(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
A growl escapes my chest as I struggle with the rage building in my veins. These fuckers are going to get it once I get back on my feet. But I force myself to read the message because business is business, and sure enough, it’s a message from Tommy, my account rep at Porta-Potty Kings.
Yo bro, he texts. You owe twelve hundred for toilet rentals. You’re in the red, bro. Time to pay up.
You think I don’t know that? I scream internally. Even more, this is fucking highway robbery. Imagine charging four figures to clean out portable toilets. That fucker is making money hand over fist and should be prosecuted for his greed and avarice. But what choice do I have? My men need a place to shit when they’re on-site, and this is what they use.
Then my phone beeps again, and I see that it’s Tommy texting the handle for his Venmo account next, along with his handle for the company’s Paypal, Zelle, and Western Union accounts as well. Fucker. In a fit of rage, I hurl my cell against the wall where it splinters before falling to the bathroom floor. Fuck! Goddamn that asshole!
Without bothering to retrieve my damaged phone, I stalk into my bedroom and throw myself on the mattress. The room’s already dark and I shut my eyes, determined to fall asleep. That’s the only respite that I’ve had of late – the dreamless unconsciousness that accompanies passing out at night. I hope sleep comes sooner rather than later because this day has been a fucking shitshow.
Unfortunately, Vanessa and her offer continue to circulate through my mind. I toss and turn restlessly, trying to get comfortable, but the temperature in my room is scalding and I literally feel myself break out in a light sweat. I punch my pillow a couple times, cursing like a motherfucker again. I hate these shits. I hate my bills. Hell, I fucking hate my life because how the fuck did I get into such a conundrum?
Yet images of the curvy girl dance before me in the dark. Her sweet features, and that plush pout. The way Vanessa looks at me sometimes, with a special sparkle in those chocolate eyes. How she prances around in those sassy skirts which are a little too short for work, showing off thick thighs and long legs. Her big bust, which often looks like it’s going to pop a couple buttons on her blouse.
I groan, reaching one hand down to fist myself. Does my stepdaughter taste sweet between her legs? Of course she does. The only question is the particular flavor of her intimate nectar. Is it akin to honey, or is it more akin to powdered sugar? Then, my thoughts grow even more rancid. How does her ass taste? Surely, Vanessa’s a virgin back there too, and I wonder at the musky flavor of her bottom. Has she ever had a man’s tongue there? Probing inside, sliding against her rectal walls? I groan again and fist my pole more vigorously. The fucking thing is leaking from the tip already, and as stiff as a mast. Shit shit shit. I need to get this under control.
Letting out a small roar, I toss off the blanket and sit up. You know what I really need? Ambien. It does no good to pull one out dreaming of the curvy girl because what is that going to say about me? Nothing flattering. I get up with every intention of stalking to my en suite and downing a bottle of pills if that’s what it takes to knock myself out. But instead, my feet do a detour. They turn to the right and before I know it, I’ve exited the master suite and I’m moving down the hall to Vanessa’s room.
Stop, Gray, the voice in my head warns. Nothing good is going to come of this midnight jaunt. You’ll find a way to survive this turbulent economic period. Everyone’s business is suffering right now, Gray. You don’t need to do this.
But the devil on my other shoulder grins and hisses in my ear.
Yes, but she asked for it, it whispers. Vanessa wants you to take her cherry. Besides, what harm is it going to do? She’s going to lose her virginity sooner or later, so why not you? At least let it be with a man who cares about her.
I groan, still moving down the hall. At this point it’s clear that my intentions have nothing to do with money, my business, or our deal. Instead, the blood’s rushing through my veins as I envision that lush form before me. All I want is a peek at her curvy figure, I tell myself. I want to see her sweetness, and that’s it. Just a glimpse, and then I’ll leave immediately.