Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 100376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
She’s got her back to me as she talks in fast, hushed tones. Fucking Dolly. She never disappoints. She can always be counted on to stir up all kinds of crap. That never should have happened. I’m stronger than that. Women mean nothing, especially her.
You’d think I’d learn. Christ, I went to jail for her. And she never once came to see me.
Carried on like it never happened while I rotted away for a year and a half. Eyeing her from behind, I notice her dress is so low cut in the back I can see the crack of her ass.
She’s a whore and I’m an ex-con—we’re a perfect fucking tornado. “Say goodbye.” At my interruption, she jumps and twirls around holding up a finger.
“Now.” This time she does obey. I move my hard erection to the other side of my jeans.
Power.
I need it. Better than any drug. It’s a thing with me, maybe because I was locked up. But I think this goes back years ago. My old man took it away when I was a child and now as an adult, I get it back. And Dolly, deep inside, was born to submit. She wants to fight her nature, but I know her. She might be a whore, but she’ll be my whore until I’m done.
“I have to go. I’ll call you later. Here.” She dumps the phone into my hand causing both of us to pull back at the electric shock between us.
My eyes narrow on her as I wait to see her next move. Biting her bottom red lip, she leans down to slip on her red pump, then straightens to her five-feet-five inches with heels.
She clears her throat. “I have things I need to say. And with your behavior, it’s obvious you do too. Maybe we should go get a cup of coffee and talk.”
I snort.
She looks up at me and frowns. “What? Is this funny to you?”
I reach for my helmet and place it on her head. “You still remember how to ride a bike?”
“Of course,” she snips as she swings her legs and seats herself on the bike like a little queen sitting on her prized stallion. She tries to pull her dress down. With the mood I’m in, I should leave her ass on the fucking pavement.
Instead, I get on and reach behind me, holding on to her thigh with one hand to make sure she’s steady and using the other to start up my bike. It rumbles to life and I peel out. Dolly leans forward with me, completely in sync. And it’s like the year and a half never happened. We’re back to being free, with nothing but the vibrations of the bike and our bodies moving together.
EDGE
Eighteen years old
I pull into the parking lot of the Viceroy in Beverly Hills. It’s close and trendy. I was tempted to take her to a crappy hotel in Hollywood, but I’ve lost all taste for shitholes. It seems like my whole life it’s been one after another. Now it doesn’t have to be.
“I said coffee.” Dolly jerks the helmet off and looks around.
“Shhh.” I grab her hand before she can run. I see it in her eyes; she’s losing the battle with me. Her red lips look more swollen than usual. She’s been biting her bottom lip trying not to cry.
Ignoring all her ramblings, because Dolly tends to do this when she gets scared or nervous, I drag her into the white marble lobby. We saunter up to the front desk.
Mirrored walls, a huge number of white orchids, and a sparkling chandelier make the place look expensive. I can’t help but smirk at our reflection. There’s mascara smudged under both Dolly’s eyes and her dress is wrinkled from the ride. I’m in my dark ripped jeans and Disciples cut.
I slap my hand down on the white marble counter causing the front desk clerk to jump. “I need a room.”
“Edge, what are you doing? I said coffee.” Her body slinks into mine as she whispers it. I know the reason she’s getting close to me is to have me protect her, shield her from the judgments of others. It’s clear she hasn’t gotten over her self-doubt or insecurities. In her mind, I’m sure we’re somehow inferior.
The idiot desk clerk looks straight at her tits. He couldn’t care less what we look like. All he sees is a fantastic rack. Fuck, he probably thinks I’m a rock star.
I’m getting pissed though. This irrational feeling of going all Neanderthal on anyone who looks at Dolly could be a problem.
“Absolutely. For how many nights?” He breaks his stare to look at me.
“One.” I look down at her. “Maybe two.”
The clerk nods and types. “King bed?”
“Yeah and send up some coffee.” I wink, and her face gets even pinker.