Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
I finger myself harder, faster. This isn’t real. He’s not here, for all that his presence saturates the room. “Big words for a guy who isn’t even in the room,” I gasp.
“Give your clit some love, baby.”
Without having any intention of obeying, my fingers move from my pussy to my clit. I’m so sensitized, it’s almost too much. “Fuck.”
“That’s right. Come for me, Red. Say my name when you do.”
I can’t give him that. I won’t. My orgasm rises and crests, and with my last little bit of willpower, I moan, “Luke!”
A beat of silence. “You’re going to pay for that.”
“Prove it.” I roll onto my back. It was a good orgasm, but it wasn’t enough. I’m not satiated in the least. My body is one throbbing knot of desire, and my fingers aren’t going to get the job done, no matter how many times I come. Damn it. I drag in a rough breath. “Did you put cameras in my bathroom, too, Wolf?”
He makes me wait for his answer. “No.”
I shouldn’t trust him, but strangely, I do. He hasn’t lied to me yet. “Goodbye.”
“Red.”
My finger hovers over the red button to hang up, but I hesitate. “What?”
“Let’s stop playing this coy shit. Friday. Eleven. The Broken Tree. The first guy who talks to you will be me. I want you in that bathroom with your skirt up and my cock buried inside you within five minutes.”
I can barely breathe. I may have fucked Rafe under nearly identical circumstances, but I could at least pretend I didn’t know he was a murderer. Wolf has blood on his hands, and he’s not even trying to convince me otherwise. “Now who’s playing coy? Friday is days away, and I just whetted my appetite. Who knows what I could get up to in the meantime.”
“You know what happens if you let someone else touch what’s mine.”
“You keep saying that as if I’m a sure thing. I’m not.” Probably.
He laughs harshly. “Yes, baby, you are. The only question remaining is how many people you’re going to get killed while you pretend otherwise.”
“I’m not meeting you.”
“See you Friday. And leave the panties at home.” He hangs up.
“Mother . . . fucker.” Am I breathless at his audacity or because the thought of obeying makes my pussy clench?
I don’t know.
The ache in my body only gets worse as I mentally play through the scenario he painted. Of his rough voice in my ear as he picks me up and sets me on the bathroom counter. Of his possessive touch as he flips up my skirt and fucks me like he owns me. I hate it and love it in equal measure, but it gets me so hot, I can barely stand it.
I spread my thighs wide. “If you’re watching, Wolf . . . enjoy the show.” I don’t stop for a very, very long time.
4
The tension of waiting for Friday is getting to me. Luke is gone more often than he’s home again today, and I think there’s another trip on the horizon. Not that it’s my business anymore. Wolf has been remarkably silent since I masturbated on the phone with him. I should be grateful for the small reprieve, but I can’t help feeling like this absence is the calm before a storm. I still haven’t decided whether I’m going to answer his summons or not, and I have just over twenty-four hours left.
Either way, I’m pathetically grateful for the distraction of Michelle inviting me out.
I keep a wary eye on my phone as I get ready. It should be a relief not to hear from Wolf today—maybe he’s gone off to terrorize some other mafia princess—but I find myself checking my cell more than is wise. And every time there’s nothing from him, my stomach dips a little.
My phone buzzes, and I get another of those awful dips when I realize it’s Michelle video calling. I give myself a shake and paste a smile on my face. “Hey, girl.”
“I forbid you from cancelling.”
That surprises a laugh out of me. “Who says I’m thinking about cancelling?”
“Call it my best friend superpower.” She looks amazing, as always, her hair pulled back in a wet look that gives fuck-me-in-the-shower vibes. “Check out this dress.” She turns the camera to face a full-length mirror, and I actually gasp. The dress is stunning, a slick bodycon masterpiece that hugs her generous curves and looks almost transparent. She moves, and I realize the translucence a trick of the light and fabric. Clever.
“There’s no way your dad is letting you out of the house in that.”
“I’m an adult and can make my own clothing decisions.” She sounds startlingly like her mother when she says it. Michelle flips the camera back around and glares into it. “My superpower was right. You’re not even ready.”