Total pages in book: 194
Estimated words: 183150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 916(@200wpm)___ 733(@250wpm)___ 611(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 183150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 916(@200wpm)___ 733(@250wpm)___ 611(@300wpm)
‘Let’s clear something up.’ He removes his jacket, throws it on the bed and picks up the jumper. ‘If you do what you’re told, our lives will be a lot easier. All this…’ He strokes his palms over my torso and pinches my nipples through my vest. I yelp. ‘is for my eyes only.’ He moves his hands behind him and digs his fingers into the hollow above my hips bone.
‘NO!’ I scream. ‘Please, no!’ I start laughing. Oh God, I’ll pee myself!
He continues with the digs and squeezes, sending me on a wild bucking mission. I can’t breathe. I’m between laughter and crying at the torturous assault, my bladder set to burst.
‘Jesse, I need the toilet!’ I half laugh, half cry. All I’m aware of is the agonising suffering he’s inflicting on me, the cruel bastard. And all because I won’t put a stupid jumper on?
‘That’s better.’ I hear him say through my bucking frenzy. I feel my hair being brushed away from my face, then his lips pressed hard on mine. ‘You could have saved us both a lot of trouble if you’d have just put…the…fucking…jumper…on.’
I look up at him and scowl as he lifts his heavy weight from me and puts his jacket back on. I sit up, finding I’m wearing the stupid jumper. How did he manage that? I turn my fierceness onto him. He’s regarding me intently, not a hint of amusement on his face.
‘I’ll just take it off.’ I spit.
‘No, you won’t.’ he assures me, and he’s probably right.
I get off the bed, heading for the bathroom in the ridiculous jumper. ‘You’re an unreasonable arse.’ I mutter, slamming the door behind me.
I go for a wee and make a mental note, never to let him get to zero again. That was my worst nightmare. I rub my poor abused hips, the sensitive flesh above my bones still tingling.
When I’m done, I find Jesse in the kitchen with Sam and Kate, who both run their eyes over my jumper clad body. I shrug, pouring myself another wine.
‘Made up?’ Kate asks, perching on Sam’s lap. He separates his thighs, causing Kate to slip between his legs on a squeal. She playfully slaps him before looking at me for an answer.
‘No,’ I mutter, throwing Jesse a disgruntled look. ‘And if you’d like to know who has put a hole in your kitchen door, look no further.’ I point my glass at Jesse. ‘He also smashed your wine glass.’ I add, like the pathetic snitch I am.
I watch as Jesse reaches in his pockets, palms off a pile of twenties and slaps them on the table in front of Kate. ‘Let me know if it’s anymore.’ he says, keeping his eyes firmly on me. I look down at the table. There must be at least five hundred quid there. And I notice he didn’t apologise, the arrogant arse.
Kate shrugs and scoops the money up. ‘That should cover it.’
Jesse shoves his hands back in his pockets, saunters over to me and bends so his face is level with mine. ‘I like your jumper.’
‘Fuck off.’ I mouth, before taking a huge swig of wine.
He grins, kissing my nose. ‘Mouth,’ he warns. He grasps the back of my head, bunching my hair in his fist and pulls me forward so we’re nose to nose. ‘Don’t drink too much.’ he orders, and then lands me with a searing hot kiss. I try to resist…a little.
When I’m free from his lips and I’ve regained my senses, I scoff, taking another glug.
He shakes his head mildly, inhaling deeply, before turning away from me. ‘My work here is done.’ he says smugly as he leaves.
‘Bye.’ Kate sings on a laugh. I throw her a filthy look.
‘My man,’ Sam holds his hand up on a grin. ‘Ava, where’s the love?’
‘Up his arse!’ I snap, discarding my wine glass and collecting my phone before storming out of the kitchen, back to my room. The man is impossible. I hear Sam and Kate laughing as I crawl into bed with my jumper on.
I’m pretending the only reason I’m pissed is because Jesse has just manhandled me into a jumper. The fact that he’s on his way to The Manor, and a certain pouty lipped witch is sure be there, has nothing to do with my bad mood – nothing at all.
As I’m dozing off, my phone starts singing The Stone Roses, This is the One. I roll my eyes, reaching for it from my bedside table. I need to teach that man some phone manners.
‘What?’ I snap.
‘Who do you think you’re talking to, lady?’
‘An unreasonable arse!’
‘I’ll ignore that. Have you still got the jumper on?’
I want to say no. ‘Yes.’ I grumble. Would he come back and torture me some more if I did say no? ‘Is that all you rang for?’