Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 102980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Cat's cleavage bumped into my lower chest, and I felt her rocking against me blatantly. Such a fucking trainwreck. Not an ounce of self-control.
“Since when do you give a flying fuck about Brock? About my family?” She grazed her teeth over my chin seductively, her tongue trailing down my neck. “C’mon, baby. There's no way in hell Pippi Longstocking keeps you busy between those sheets. Look how neat they are. I doubt she even shares that bed with you."
I grabbed her by the hair and spun her, throwing her against the wall face-first and grinding against her curvy ass from behind. "You better shut your pipe," I snarled into her ear. “It’s never been too good for anything other than sucking cock, and even that is growing old.”
Catalina threw her head back against my chest and laughed hysterically. "You didn't even fuck her yet, did you? Oh, how I wish I could have seen the look on her sweet little face when she unwrapped the gift that I bought for her." Her ass slammed into my erection. “I’ll wear it for you, baby. All the leather and garters in the world.”
“You’re crazy.” My impatience and anger felt sour on my tongue. “Have you relapsed?”
“I’m as sober as a nun. I just came to remind you that you’re still mine.” Cat snaked her hand behind the small of her back to grab my cock through my pants.
She couldn’t have been more wrong. I wasn’t hers. Never had been. Never will be.
Not again.
But she was right about one thing. I didn't sleep with my own wife. The woman who I took into my house, who slept in my bed, who I have given a job and bought tickets to Miami for.
And it pissed the shit out of me.
“Forget about her,” she purred. “She’ll never be yours.”
“Bitch.”
I flipped the hem of her dress up and ripped her panties in one sharp movement, leaving a red trail of on her skin. Her ass was round and golden brown, perfect, unlike Sparrow’s small and white one. But I still closed my eyes, and for whatever fucked-up reason, pretended that this was my wife as I unzipped.
I rode Cat from behind, my balls slapping against her ass, like I was spanking the venom out of this vile woman. Soon enough, devil woman started moaning as loud as she possibly could, no doubt to make sure Sparrow would hear if she walked in downstairs. I balled her ripped panties in my fist and shoved them in her mouth to muffle the sound of her whimpering my name.
“Tr-ror-roy…” Her voice was garbled, and she spat the underwear from her mouth, which only made me more furious. “Troy...”
Thrust.
“Shut up,” I ordered. Her voice made me remember it wasn’t my wife I was having sex with. Hell, with each sound she made, my dick softened a little. She wasn’t who I wanted to fuck, and that was oddly disappointing.
“Oh my God, I love you baby, I love you.”
Thrust.
“Shut. The hell. Up.”
I felt her legs shaking against mine as I pumped harder into her. Catalina was molded between my body and the wall, banging her head against it in frustration and pleasure, and that was my cue to pull out, still half hard, still thinking of Red for some crazy reason.
I didn’t come, and knew it would be pointless to try. She wasn’t Sparrow. Didn’t feel like her, didn’t taste like her, didn’t move like her.
Cat barely had time to turn around and face me before I zipped up. I threw the stained dress she gave Red earlier that week in her direction.
"Get the fuck out of my place and never come here again," I ordered. “We’re done.”
I always told her we were through. Every week. Yet somehow, we always ended up rolling on her bed. And carpet, floor, Jacuzzi and even on her lush, neatly cut lawn. But it was always at her house. She was never allowed, not physically and certainly not mentally, into my kingdom. This was a breach. And yet another goddamned excuse to finish what I wanted nothing to do with anymore. Her.
She caught the dress mid-air and examined it, shocked. Tugging at the stained fabric, she let out a grunt. "The little witch ruined my dress."
Pulling the suitcase from the bed and resting it on the floor, I stifled a sarcastic laugh. I reached for my back pocket and yanked out my wallet, plucking a wad of cash and throwing it in her general direction. "It was your brilliant idea to send my wife your dress. Ever heard of the dry cleaners? Time to use ’em.”
"Dry clean what? It's a mess! Can't you see?" She waved the dress in the air. “I can’t believe the little skank!”
I walked right past her, and when I reached the open door, I nodded for her to get out. Catalina huffed and marched out of the room, a sulky expression on her face. She stomped down the curved staircase, deliberately stabbing her pointy heels into the wooden treads. At the bottom she spun back to face me, but I stopped before the bottom step, towering one stair and several more inches over her.