Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 106754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
To hurt June. To fuck up Kara. To show her lame-ass boyfriend who owns the pussy he thinks he's going to put a ring on. I want to cuck him. I want to see him broken. I want to be the one to cause pain again, because what the hell do I have left but some random fucking hookup in Pulse? There's nothing. Nothing.
"Yeah, alright," I finally drawl, downing another drink and putting my leather jacket over my shoulders. "Come on, let's go."
Ecstatic, Kara takes my hand and her boyfriend's in the other. She leads us out of the club and her pussy boyfriend calls an Uber. The whole drive back to their Brooklyn apartment, the girl stares me down hungrily. She really does fucking want more. What a thirsty little bitch.
The thought of fucking Kara should fill me with primal desire, but it does fucking nothing for me. Not when my mind is still stuck on June, on how much I hurt her. I ruined her fucking life, and I'll never be able to forgive myself for it—and neither will she. I groan inwardly, running my fingers through my hair.
The Uber stops in front of a fancy building, and the three of us take the elevator to their penthouse. Moments after the front door closes, Kara is on me. Her sloppy lips try to find mine, but I evade them, telling myself I'm only biding the time before I give her what she so desperately wants. But the more time that passes, the less convinced I am I'll be able to go through with this.
I don't want some skanky slutty girl from Pulse. I want June. But I can't have her. So I might as well indulge. It's not like June gives a shit, anyway.
Kara seems a little put off by my reluctance, so she sits me down on her green velvet sofa with a bottle of vodka in one hand. She climbs on her boyfriend's lap on the couch opposite of mine, and his hands find their way under her excuse for a skirt. I watch impassively as the two make out. Lips meet lips. Skin meets skin. And my cock lays flat against my stomach, refusing to so much as throb once at the sight.
Even when the guy removes Kara's top, I remain unimpressed. Yeah, she's fucking gorgeous, but this means nothing to me. There's no emotion other than straight-up horniness here, and it fucking bothers me even though I have no goddamn idea when I got so hung up on emotions of all things.
Maybe it was when I realized how delicious they can be. When I saw how much more meaningful fucking is when you love someone. But I don't love June anymore. I can't love June anymore. My stepsister has made it plenty clear she doesn't give a shit about me, and it's about time I moved on. So when Kara motions for me to come closer, I sit on the couch with her guy, and she climbs onto my lap. My hands explore her skin. She's pretty. Warm. She feels good in my arms. But I feel nothing. Fucking nothing.
I let her kiss me for a while, wondering what kind of excuse I can come up with to get out of this shitty situation. But my mind is blank. There's nothing I can think of that would get me out of this penthouse and back home, where I could lament the death of two relationships alone.
Finally, I've had enough.
"I can't," I mutter, gently sliding her off my lap and back into her boyfriend's arms. "I can't fuck you, I'm sorry."
"What?" She stares at me, flabbergasted. Then her expression turns angry. "Seriously? You made us bring you all the way here just so you could back out now?"
"I'm sorry," I groan again, running my fingers through my hair. "I'm fucking sorry, okay?"
"Your brother was right," Kara says with disdain. "You really are a fucking loser."
I pick myself up from the couch and shrug my jacket back on. By the time I've reached the front door, the couple is already all over one another again. Whatever they're doing, they don't fucking need me. Nobody does. I'm like that extra goddamn screw you get with your furniture. Useless.
I head outside. The air is cold and crisp, clearing the fog from my head. It's gonna take me fucking hours to get back home on foot. But when I check my phone, I find the battery is empty. I can't even call myself an Uber. I curse out loud and keep walking, hoping I'll find a ride somewhere along the way.
Kicking at rocks on the street, I wonder whether I'll ever see June again. Whether Parker will step in touch with me again, maybe forgive me for all the shit I've done. I know he's pissed I tried to take June away from him, but a part of me really hopes he'll understand eventually. That he'll maybe even let me have her...