Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 17773 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 89(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17773 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 89(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
I can’t seem to stop admiring it.
It’s just so pretty, and I’m so happy Adam and I are friends again.
And one day, we’re going to get married just like my mommy and daddy and live happily ever after.
Today has been the best day.
I spin in so many circles and make myself so dizzy Adam has to catch me when I start to fall over.
Seemingly as happy as me, he chuckles as I giggle and nearly knock him to floor.
We’re practically hugging again when my mommy steps into the room and says my name, “Abigail? Sweetheart?”
Seeing her in the doorway fills me with even more happiness.
I tear away from Adam.
“Mommy!” I cry out and run up to her, hugging her middle.
“Oh my,” my mommy says and giggles a little herself as she reaches down and returns my hug. “Did you have a good day?”
Tipping my head back, I exclaim, “Yes!”
My mom beams down at me. “That’s good.” Then her eyes drift over my head and her smiles fades a little as they land on Adam. “Hello, Adam.”
“Ma’am,” Adam says, stiffening.
Unable to keep all my happiness to myself and wanting my mom to share it, I thrust my arm up and show her my hand. “Mommy, Adam gave me a ring! Isn’t it pretty? We’re going to get married!”
Eyes widening, my mom’s gaze snaps down to my hand and she gasps, “What?!”
The Bad Man
James
I’m a playboy, a slut, and a manwhore. I’d even call myself a fuckboy.
Shit… maybe I should back up my thinking on that.
I’m not any of those things anymore.
Now… I’m a monk. A celibate monk who wakes up wrapped around a pillow, sweating his ass off from another dream about chasing after a girl.
All the stories in all the books start the same fucking way.
There once was a girl, and the dumbass who fucking craves her follows after her…
Looking down at my wristwatch as strobes of lights flash in sync with pounding bass music, I want to let out another loud sigh, but I refrain.
Barely.
My eyes do roll though.
I fucking hate night clubs. I hate them with a fucking passion.
I hate all the dancing women, too, but that’s the new normal for me. I want nothing more than to be out on the floor, dancing away with them. Rubbing my thick cock up against their shiny vinyl-covered asses. I want to run my hands up from their stomachs and cup their full breasts. I want to bite down on their necks.
I want to do all the things that I used to do before I met her, the one woman in my life I can’t seem to shake from my mind. She’s out there dancing, too, with a couple girls she knows from college.
But I don’t watch her.
I can’t watch her.
If I did, my poor brain would finally shatter and give into the dark urges I feel day in and day out now.
I’d take her away from here. I’d chain her to a bed and do things…
Things I’d regret.
She’s not mine though.
I can’t touch her.
She’s one of the pure ones, the untainted.
She’s brushed against my world full of filth and refuse. She was terrorized and almost sold on the black market.
But I saved her from that life.
And I keep saving her.
She doesn’t know it. I’ve made sure she isn’t aware of the fact that the one person she doesn’t see is the one who keeps her safe. The only time I haven’t been in direct control of her safety is when she drives a car.
And sweet fucking leaping Jesus, she can’t drive for shit.
I’ve developed acid indigestion because of her driving, it’s like she learned to drive at a clown college or something.
A light feminine cough beside me pulls me from my brooding.
Holding out a tray, a little blonde waitress says, “Martin wanted me to bring this over.”
Looking down at the tumbler filled with amber liquid, I say, “No thanks. Just bring me another Diet coke.”
Frowning at me, the waitress says, “Martin wants you to drink. He says you’re bringing down the mood up here, and since you’re the only guest in the VIP room…”
Glancing over my shoulder at the manager who’s wedged himself behind a table in one of the booths, I give him the finger. Fucking greasy asshole’s been getting on my nerves tonight.
Lucifer owns this club, therefore when one of us is here he should know better than to open his fat fucking mouth about anything.
“Diet coke,” I say and pull a hundred out of my pocket, dropping it on her serving tray.
“Yes sir,” she nods her head before turning her little ass around and heading back to the bar.
Turning to face Martin for a moment, I aim my pointer finger and thumb at him like a gun.
Grinning, I make a shooting motion.
The way the man cringes and then quickly rips himself out of the seat gives me a brief moment of happiness.