Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 131209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 437(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 437(@300wpm)
I didn’t want to hurt her. I never wanted to cause her pain or distress, but she was right… I did want to own her. I wanted her to be mine and I knew that was the most ludicrous thought.
She was a VIP.
She is a VIP.
The more time I spent with her, the more I wanted to know her. The more I needed to know her. I hated knowing that everything the fortuneteller said was true. She proved it to herself and to me the moment we walked into the room. I couldn’t take seeing her like that. It physically made me sick knowing that men treated her like anything less than what she deserved. I reacted.
I wasn’t proud of it. It terrified me as much as it did her. I didn’t want to be my father. I didn’t want to lose control.
I realized in that moment…
I could destroy her.
And the sick thing about it…
Was that I wanted to.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
<>D<>
Brooke didn’t talk to me or look at me before making her way to the other bed last night. We slept in different beds and she barely acknowledged me in the morning. We ate breakfast in silence and boarded the plane the same way. We were in a cab on our way to Madam’s condo.
“Is this how it’s going to be?” I asked, annoyed that she was doing this again.
She shrugged, maintaining her neutral stare out the window. We pulled up to the building, I helped her with her bags and she barely gave me one last glance before she went inside. I stood half in shock, half pissed off. I paid the driver and took the elevator to the penthouse floor, not thinking twice about it. The doors opened and she was sitting on the couch with her head in her lap.
“I knew you’d follow me up here,” she announced not moving or looking at me.
I walked and sat across from her on the other couch. “What the fuck is going on?”
“What do you want, Devon? You said you wanted to be friends and then you pull that stunt on me last night… you say I’m the one playing games, but so are you.” She looked up at me. “You’re fucking with my head.”
“You started it, Bambi, I wanted to hang out and you came on to me.”
She took a deep breath. “I don’t know how to be any other way. I don’t have friends; I barely have family. This is who I am. It baffles my mind that you still haven’t figured that out yet.”
“Bullshit. It’s not who you are, it’s what you do.”
Her eyes widened. “You know nothing about me. Stop pretending like you do,” she whispered like she didn’t want to be saying it.
“So what? Huh? That means I can’t learn who you are… we can’t see where this goes?”
“Where what goes?” she laughed, surprised. “What, Devon? You want to be my boyfriend? Are you serious? You want us to date and maybe take me home to mom? Right? Maybe meet your son? Is this what you’re hoping for?”
“I don’t know…” I replied, lifting my shoulders. “But I like you and I want to be around you. I care about you and I have fun with you, and in my book there’s nothing wrong with that.”
She shrugged, shaking her head. “I fuck, Devon, I fuck for a living… everything I buy… is money I get from spreading my legs. I don’t know how to be any other way. So when you take me somewhere or you’re nice to me, in the back of my mind all I’m thinking about is when your pants are coming off and your dick is going in my mouth. I’m thinking… I need to even the score, I may let him stick it in my ass. Is that what you want to hear?”
“You don’t deserve to be treated that way.”
“You don’t get it, do you? I WANT to be treated that way. I’m not here because I’m lost, Devon, I’m not Ysabelle. You can’t save me and I don’t want you to. I’m happy. I’ve never been happier than I have since I started VIP. There’s a reason I’ve been here for twelve years.”
“I don’t believe that. Not for a second. I see you, Bambi, and that’s what fucking scares you. You have made up so much psychobabble bullshit in your mind. What happened to you? Come on, everyone has a story, what’s yours?”
She cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow. I didn’t know if I wanted to fuck her or strangle her… it may have been a little of both.
“What’s yours? You want to share sad stories then you fucking start, I will gladly follow,” she countered, testing me.
I wanted to tell her, I wanted to tell her so fucking bad that I could taste it. “This isn’t about me.” But I couldn’t. I was hiding as much as she was. We were two of the same.