Pretty Monster Read Online Sheridan Anne

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Mafia, Suspense Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 123672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
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After closing the window, I make my way to my room while glancing over at Crew making himself comfortable on my couch. “Make yourself at home,” I tell him. “There’s beer and Chinese leftovers in the fridge, but I’ll only be ten minutes.”

Crew gives me a knowing stare with his brow arched, and I roll my eyes. “Okay,” I say with a groan. “I’ll be fifteen minutes. Twenty at most.”

He smirks to himself, and with that, I stride into my room, put my phone on charge, and kick off my shoes before finally traipsing out to the bathroom, more than ready for a quick shower.

6

REID

The sound of the shower has an image of Kyah’s naked body flashing in my head, the mental image instantly getting me hard as I stand in her bedroom. I can’t help from bracing my arm against the wall and reaching into my pants, desperately fisting my cock. Furiously jerking off, I listen to the subtle hum of the shower pipes through the wall, unable to keep from picturing the way the small beads of water would skate down her toned body.

She’s left the bathroom door open, and knowing that fucking gorgeous body is only a few steps away gets me off that much faster.

A soft grunt tears from the back of my throat, and I quietly move across her room, my fist moving up and down my cock, squeezing tight as I picture the way that tight little cunt would take me, my cock glistening in her wetness.

Bracing my knee against her bed, I come hard, the intensity knocking me forward, and as I catch myself on her bed, my hips jolt, and I pour hot spurts of cum onto her bedspread.

Fuck. That was good.

I hang my head, taking a panting breath as I try to calm myself, and when I can finally control the wild need pulsing through my veins and my hard-on has faded, I get to my feet, tucking my dick back into my pants.

Kyah’s phone is charging on her bedside table, and sparing a glance back toward the door, I take my chance, scooping up her phone and quickly accessing her app store. I download a cloning app and connect it to the one on my burner phone before starting the process.

She’s got a lot of shit stored on her phone, and the process takes longer than I’d hoped.

Ten percent. Twenty-five. Forty-four.

Fuck. This is going to take too long, but it’ll be worth it to receive all of her incoming calls and texts in real time, to be able to access her location whenever I need to find her, to see who’s trying to contact what’s mine.

Hearing the shower cut off, I curse under my breath before glancing down at the phone. Fifty-eight percent. Shit.

Cutting back across Kyah’s bedroom, I take her phone and slip into the darkness of her closet, listening to the soft pad of her feet as she gets out of the shower. I hear her messing around in the bathroom before finally stepping out and walking into her room. I peer through the gap in the door. She’s wrapped in a white towel with water dancing across her skin.

Fuck, she’s flawless. I’ve never seen anyone quite like her, and when she truly becomes mine, it’s going to be the most satisfying kill of my long career. Just having those bright blue eyes locked on mine as I drain her of life is going to thrill me like never before, and hell, if I get to be inside her while that happens . . . shit, I’ll never experience anything better.

She’s like a fucking bear cub, cute as a button, but lethal if you get too close.

Kyah strides over to her closet, and my heart races, a thrill pulsing through my veins. She’s barely a breath away, and when she opens her closet door and reaches in, her bare arm skims past my chest, and my knees buckle.

Well, shit. I’m hard all over again.

I wonder just how fucked up it’d be to lick her arm? Just a little. I mean, not like a fucking dog slobbering and panting all over, just a quick flick of my tongue, just enough to get a taste. The idea has a subtle groan rumbling through my chest, but before my tongue can even roll over my bottom lip, her arm is gone.

She searches for an outfit, blindly selecting hangers and tearing the clothes off them before tossing them over her shoulder, covering the new gift I left for her, until she finally finds something that I’m sure will hug her body just right. And hell, the whole time I have to resist reaching out to touch her, to grip her wrist and lean in, bringing her skin to my mouth and breathing her in like some kind of drug I’m already addicted to.


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