Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 114551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 573(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 573(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
His hand drops to my waist, squeezing tight. “All of it, baby. If you want one of my rooms, you’re gonna pay the price.”
Releasing his cock, I hold his gaze as I grip his belt buckle and start undoing it. “Then what the fuck are you waiting for?” I question, opening his pants just enough to see the top of his pathetic cock. Then lifting my blistered foot, I kick his desk chair, rolling it back against the wall. “Take your fucking cock out and sit.”
The asshole looks at me as though he can barely believe what’s happening, and without hesitation, he turns his back and makes his way to his chair. He adjusts his pants, opening them just enough to pull his stumpy cock out, and as he settles back into the desk chair and fists his dick, I scan over the desk, finding exactly what I’m looking for.
Slipping the paper knife into my hand, I turn and fix this moron with a sultry smile as I stride toward him, rocking my hips the way that used to drive Dalton wild with hunger. His fist tightens on his cock, and I almost throw up at the bead of moisture already pooling at the tip.
Why the hell was this so hot when it was one of my boys but so fucking disgusting with this guy?
Grabbing the armrests of the office chair, I drag him toward me before straddling his lap. “You hungry for me?” I murmur, reaching up and fisting my hand into his hair, before tearing his head right back and not allowing him even an inch to move, showing him a dominance that I can guarantee he’s never experienced before. “Answer me,” I growl. “How fucking hungry are you? How much do you want my sweet little cunt.”
“Fucking starving, bitch. Take my cock.”
My gaze drops to his pathetic dick, my stomach clenching with disgust, then leaning over him as if preparing to take him, my hand whips up to his exposed throat, the paper knife digging into his flesh. “Oh, I’ll fucking take it, alright,” I tell him, watching as his eyes widen with fear. “Tell me, how much do you think it’ll bleed when I cut it off? Should I leave the balls or take them too? I mean, I don’t think you’ll need them if there’s no dick there, but honestly, I feel for you, a life without being able to come ever again. Fuck. I’d kill myself.”
“You’re a fucking crazy bitch,” he panics.
“Yeah,” I laugh, pressing a little harder on the paper knife and watching as a bead of blood sails down the thick column of his throat. “I am a crazy bitch—a crazy bitch who’s had a really fucked-up night, but you know what? I’d rather be crazy than a sick fuck like you.”
He clenches his jaw, and I continue, letting him see the desperation in my gaze, silently telling him just how far I’m willing to take this. “Do you think you’ll bleed out and die before I can even find my room key?” I ask, channeling my inner Harley Quinn.
“Fuck, okay,” he rushes out. “Just have the fucking room.”
I smile sweetly. “That’s what I thought.”
And with that, I climb off his lap and keep an eye on him as I riffle through the desk drawer and pull out a roll of masking tape. I toss it into his lap, clipping him right on the tip of his dick and getting the sweetest satisfaction out of it. “Tape yourself to the chair,” I tell him, watching as he quickly gets to work, knowing damn well he’s only going to be able to complete half the job.
Satisfied he’s staying put for now, I start searching the desk. “Room key?”
“Second drawer.”
Pulling it open, I find the keys scattered through the drawer and curl my fingers around one with a green tag for room four. “Where’s four?” I ask, looking back to find one of his wrists bound before quickly stepping back and quickly taping the other.
“Top floor. Go right at the top of the stairs.”
I give him a beaming, innocent smile and make sure to take the paper knife with me. “Wonderful.” I get halfway around the desk when I double back and keep searching the cupboards and drawers until finding a small first aid kit and smiling to myself. I grab it and walk back to the door and shove it open. Then standing half in and half out of the motel reception, I look back at my new friend. “You don’t even want to know what will happen to you if you even attempt to come near my room while I sleep. Understood?”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, you crazy bitch. Just get out of here.”
With that, I step out into the cold night, my feet bleeding and sore as I glance around the motel, searching for my room. Then with the paper knife and key tucked firmly in my hand, I dash up the stairs and turn to the right before finally coming to a stop in front of room four.