Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 60165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
“Miss Annie, are you okay?” continues Timothy. “I heard noises.” Scared of arousing suspicion, I quickly jump into action.
“I’m fine, Timothy, thank you!” I call back.
“Your parents heard something too. They heard you call out,” he replies. Typical for them to send the butler instead of checking on me themselves. But for once, I’m glad that they’re cold-hearted and lazy.
“It’s okay, Timothy. I just stubbed my toe!” I call back, praying he’ll leave it at that.
“Okay. I’ll pass that on,” he says, and I close my eyes in relief. “Do you need a first aid kit?”
I stammer. “No, I’m good, thanks. I’ll be fine.”
Timothy shifts his weight a bit.
“Alright then. Goodnight, Miss Annie,” he adds before shuffling off.
“Goodnight,” I call back as his footsteps disappear down the hallway. The light switches off, and I’m left alone again. Realizing the state I’m in – sweaty, covered in semen, my nightdress torn, and my ass throbbing and sore from being fucked so hard – I decide I need a shower.
As I stand below the pounding hot water, my mind reels. How did Bruce and Burke get out of my room so quickly? More importantly, how do they keep getting in? I’m dying to know, but I’ve also realized that asking questions doesn’t go down well with my rough daddies. I felt them become guarded at my questions, and it both scared and aroused me. But then again, I have a right to know, don’t I? Bruce and Burke may not want to tell me, but given our strange situation, there are things that I have to find out.
Still, their words ring in my mind.
“There’s something more precious beneath the roof of this house than any of the artwork,” they’d said. Do they mean me? They can’t possibly. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be so secretive. What if, the night they first broke into my room, they didn’t actually come to steal what was in my room but what was in another part of the house? Are they now using me to somehow get closer to what they came to steal? And if so, what is it?
I dismiss these thoughts immediately: it’s not possible. My mind’s just going in circles, and it’s late. I’m becoming delirious. Besides, their interest in me seems so genuine, and well … it’s emotional. They cradled me to sleep that one night after I cried, and freely indulged in my fantasy tonight. Not only that, but when we talked about protection, we started talking about pregnancy as well, and it sounded like they wanted babies. Could that be true?
It seems hard to believe because these are two, hardened criminals. Why would they want a child? How would it even work, if both of them are the daddies? But somehow, I know Bruce and Burke have a plan. They’ll make it happen, somehow or other, the way they always do.
After all, they may have been using my body for their pleasure, but they’ve been equally interested in pleasing mine, if not more. They care about me, in more ways than one. That’s definitely real.
Exhausted from all these unanswered questions, I fall asleep with only a few hours left until dawn. I manage to catch just enough sleep to not feel like a complete zombie when my alarm goes off, but continue hitting snooze for as long as possible. At least I’ve already showered. In my sleepy state, I reason that I can just throw on my baggiest, comfiest clothes and head to school after some more zzz’s.
But Jessica is on a roll today. She’s fired up about prom, and the endless babbling about clothes, hair, and make-up are getting to me. I can’t take it. It’s been getting increasingly more annoying the last couple of weeks, and it’s all so incredibly boring. Maybe I’d be more interested if I were going to prom myself, but I’m not. Not that anyone’s asked of course, but at this point, I don’t care. Not when memories of Burke and Bruce fill my mind.
“So yeah,” breathes Jessica. “I’m thinking about a tiara. What do you think? Too much or just the right touch?” She mimes putting her hair up in a topknot and then sliding a glittery tiara onto her curls.
I sputter so hard that milk almost shoots out of my nose.
“I’m sorry, what?” I ask while trying to pat myself dry. “Did you say a tiara?”
“Well yeah,” Jess sniffs, scrolling through pictures on her phone. “Everyone wears tiaras these days. Didn’t you see Kate Middleton at that last State dinner? She looked sooo elegant.”
I try not to giggle.
“But Kate Middleton literally is a princess,” I say gently. “So a tiara is right for her. But this is just prom. Don’t you think a crown would be overdoing it?”
Jessica looks up at me seriously.
“That’s why I’m asking you Annie,” she says. “So you think it’s too much, right?”