Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 23747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
A deep growl rumbles from his chest and my heart races as his rapt gaze gives me a sudden sense of power over this powerful man.
“I’m the only man who is ever going to see that.” He pounds his other fist on the steering wheel while he works his erection under his pants. “I’m going to take care of you.” His voice lowers, almost cracks on that last part like it’s hurting him. That same look crosses his face that he had earlier, like he’s in pain, as his massive chest rises and falls.
He takes the next exit and within minutes, we are on a dark, thickly tree-lined street with houses so far back from the road they are hard to make out except for the fact that they are huge.
Real mansions, and he’s pulling into the biggest of them all.
He parks in front of a massive double front door, cutting the engine, but keeps his eyes forward, the muscle in his jaw flexing.
“Has anyone ever touched what’s mine? Down there?” His gaze is set forward, one hand still clenched on the black leather steering wheel.
I shake my head on a hard swallow, and he releases himself to slide his hand down my bare stomach, then down, down, between my legs as I press upward into his touch.
I’m throbbing everywhere, and the need for what he’s offering is blinding me. I don’t care about safety or what he might do to me, I just want to wiggle and release the tension that’s winding so tight inside me I feel like I’m about to come apart.
His fingers brush back and forth, stars twinkling behind my closed lids as I slide into the feeling of his fingers across my clit.
“Where’s your family?” His voice is suddenly flat and stoic.
My mouth waters and my pussy clenches under the soft, oddly comforting strum of his fingers as my aroused scent fills the space around us. “My mother passed away when I was young. My father…” I hate to even think about my father while this man is playing with me like a little lost toy, but when I peek up at him, his eyes are intent on me, his nostrils flaring. His movements pause as I stay silent, then finally blurt out, “My father is in prison. I don’t have anyone else.”
Silence and heartbeats are the only sounds in the car as he withdraws his hand, and tears burn my lower lids. I think of sleeping on the mattress in the house my father lost to the bank. How I rigged one of the boarded-up windows to open, so I could sneak in at night and out in the morning. It will be six months to a year before it goes to auction, from what I researched, so that should be enough time for me to formulate my plan.
Find a sugar daddy who doesn’t want any sugar to save my sorry, fat bottom.
Sleeping on the left-over mattress was not horrible, but the nights have turned colder, and without an official address, I’ve not been able to find a job outside of the one I have at Louis’ BBQ Pit where I wait tables for tips only. I worry about everything. I always have. It’s like a spring tightening inside me. The only constant companion in my life has been my anxiety.
The bit of income I’ve managed has been enough to keep me in food, and the church around the corner from the BBQ place gives out mini toiletries and canned goods every Thursday morning. I grab a shower at the YMCA, where the lady at the desk and I have a bargain. I bring her a pulled pork sandwich with a pickle on the side, and she looks the other way when I go into the women’s locker room.
I’m sort of frozen in time, I guess. Unable to see a way out of staying at the house I called home, even though it’s a cold shell of what it used to be.
The hand that was just dancing on my wet, needy girl parts, now cups my chin. The slickness I released onto his fingers slides against me as he turns me and locks our eyes together, a single drip of sweat traversing down my spine.
“You’re wrong about not having anyone else,” he says with a calm strength that makes me want to believe everything he says. “You have me.”
Chapter Three
Hudson
There’s no way this is real.
I never understood the ‘pinch myself’ reference, but here I stand in the huge guest suite bathroom in Jackson’s house, running a bubble bath for a girl I just kidnapped.
Life gets weird quick.
The thought that she is just playing me to distraction tinkers with my thinking, but it doesn’t deter me from the plan I’ve laid out in my mind.
From the second I saw her hopping that fence, then when she came out on that stage, her trusting blue eyes and those womanly curves have scrambled my brains.