Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 53088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
“Baby?” I rumbled again, my voice echoing through the space. “Baby?”
With my mom’s present still in hand, I headed for the bedroom, loosening my tie and grinning with anticipation. God, she was in here for sure, just waiting for me to make an entrance. And my dick jerked in anticipation.
Because last time, Beth had been waiting on her hands and knees, face pressed into the pillow, legs spread wide open as her fingers played with those sweet pink folds. And when I made an entrance, the brunette swung around to look at me, all hungry eyes and hotly heaving tits.
“Mason?” had been her throaty cry. “Mason, now!”
Of course, I obliged. I was all over that her like white on rice, dicking the female good. But today, the bed was empty. The drapes were wide open and the New York skyline glittered outside the glass, cold and calculating. Hmm. Odd.
But then I noticed it. A trail of scattered clothes, half folded, leading to the walk-in closet.
What the hell?
Cold sweat popped out on my forehead. Something was wrong. It had to be. Beth was neat and organized. She’d never leave things lying around like some slob.
Did something happen to her? Holy shit, maybe the female had passed out. Maybe she was pregnant and fainted while putting away the clothes.
Immediately, I bolted, calling her name and thrusting the closet door open.
But that’s when reality struck.
Because the situation was unmistakable.
The bottom drawer of the dresser was jerked out, still halfway open. More clothes were heaped messily in random piles.
But it the notebooks that made the blood drain from my face. They were scattered all over the flor, colorful and half-open, laying with their spines bent.
Photos of Beth looked up at me, naked and spread out on the couch on my office, panting heavily as she took her first dick.
Photos of other women, pink and flush, in a variety of poses.
Beth must have found them.
Fuck!
Why had I been such a dumb shit?
I should have locked this crap up. I should have burned it. But the truth is, it’d slipped my mind. These last two months have been so freakin’ amazing that I forgot all about the fucking fuck book until last night’s meeting. Shit shit shit!
And now Beth had found it.
I was so screwed, my hand scrabbling for my cell.
The phone bleated, calling my best girl.
Pick up, baby. Pick up, I commanded mentally. Please pick up.
But the phone rang and rang, before shunting to voicemail. I tried again. She didn’t pick up. She wouldn’t pick up.
My knees felt weak and I literally staggered then, bracing myself against the closet wall. Thump-THUMP! Thump-THUMP! My heart pounded like a giant taiko drum. Holy shit, I was having chest pains, my life exploding in front of me.
Because Judgment Day had come, but I wasn’t ready.
I’d hoped to push the discovery off by years, maybe even decades. Twenty years from now, after Beth and I were married with kids, the whole fuck book concept wouldn’t be so bad. It’d be a joke more than anything, a reminder of my bachelor past. Something that we’d laugh about when we were old and gray, seated companionably in rocking chairs on the porch.
But shit!
It’d all gone off the rails.
My fingers dug spastically into the wood of the door frame, splinters digging into my skin.
She’d found it, and now it was over.
All over.
And like some sick joke, a photo of my beautiful girl lay on the floor, taunting me.
Her face, sighing with ecstasy, legs spread as I held that creamy vag open.
“Hymen Pic #4,” it was labeled in clear black letters. “A+.”
And the damning evidence was like a coffin door slamming shut.
Because Beth was gone now.
After seeing that, who wouldn’t be?
I couldn’t blame her.
I could only blame myself.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Beth
I didn’t know where I was. Nor did it matter.
My feet wobbled beneath my frame as I staggered through the streets. Painful throbs beat at the base of my skull, vision slightly hazy.
Because how could Mason do this to me?
I thought the billionaire wanted me.
I thought the billionaire loved me.
But it was all idiocy. Because why would a guy with everything want somebody like me? Plain Beth White who was ugly and fat, with her nose buried in books all the time.
I’d fooled myself.
More than that.
I’d been lying to myself.
Tears streamed down my cheeks but I didn’t wipe them away. For what felt like hours now, I’d stumbled through the streets of New York. Down sidewalks and up avenues, feet moving blindly forwards. Along corners, passing by other pedestrians who laughed and talked like nothing was wrong.
They had no idea.
If they knew, their thoughts would be cruel.
Look at that stupid girl.
She’s such a lunatic.
She thought that a billionaire loved her. Yeah, right.
A loud sob tore through my frame and bent me in two in the middle of the pavement. But this is New York, and people don’t care. The crowd flowed around my form, some passerby even bumping my shoulder carelessly as tears streamed down my face.