Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Or so everyone thought.
I held her hand while they stitched her up, and I contained my rage when she refused to involve the police. She convinced me to keep my mouth shut, and then explained to the doctor that she slipped in the bathroom, causing a freak accident when the vase shattered and stabbed through her breast.
When we were waiting to get discharged, I pushed her to tell me why she wouldn’t report it.
“I was drunk, Walsh,” she said softly. “Maybe I was asking for it.”
“Don’t ever let me hear you talk that way again,” I’d chastised her, but there was a hard edge to my voice that made her eyes go round.
“Don’t tell Micah or my dad,” she pleaded. “They’ll be so mad.”
I warred with myself over what to do, but by the time I had her in my car to drive the forty-five minutes to Henderson, I agreed not to tell them on one condition.
Though it was with great reluctance, she gave me the names of the boys who tried to take something that didn’t belong to them and left her a bloody mess on the bathroom floor.
They bled more than she did when I was done with them, and it was mine and Jorie’s secret forever.
I grab my glass, taking a long swallow of the vodka. Pulling my photos up on my phone, I flip to the two I’d snapped of Jorie tonight and grit my teeth to stave off the regret.
Fuck, she’s gorgeous.
Guilt overwhelms me as I realize I’m totally turned on by a photo of her sitting on that contraption built by her older brother. Disgust practically curdles my blood as I think about Micah seeing that picture.
Christ, what a mess.
I flip to my texts and see a lengthy line of messages from the man himself.
Dude… I’ve been waiting for details.
How did it work? Any problems? Any adjustments to the design?
Is there video? Please tell me you took video?
So… did it get her pussy warmed up for you?
I wince. It sure had.
I fucked your little sister, Micah, because I was so turned on by that fucking machine you built and the way she came all over your goddamned dildo, I think to myself.
“Fuck,” I yell out to the emptiness of my bedroom and hurl my glass to the side where it crashes against the wall. I let my head fall back against the headboard and close my eyes.
Images of Jorie working herself down onto that latex cock.
Images of Jorie coming on mine.
I open my eyes with a growl, confident I’m never going to be able to sleep again because I can’t close my eyes.
The ringing of my phone startles me, and it’s a welcomed interruption. When I glance down to see Micah calling, I groan in complete misery over this mess.
Taking a deep breath, I let it out and answer, “It’s three in the morning. Don’t you ever sleep?”
“Don’t you ever answer your texts?” he returns with a laugh, and I can tell he’s drunk by the slight slur to his voice. Micah always parties hard and it’s a Saturday night, so there’s no surprise he’s inebriated. “What the fuck, buddy? You send me a picture of a fine ass riding my cock machine and you can’t spare more details?”
I wince, thinking he’d straight out slit my throat if he knew who that fine ass belonged to. “It worked like a charm,” I tell him, my tongue thickened with the deception that’s rolling off.
“Did the remote-control work okay?” he asks, his words still slurred but the question indicating he’s not so drunk that he left his engineering degree behind.
“Yeah,” I say, then give a cough to clear my throat. “I didn’t test the full depth and had it at medium speed. Jerico’s going to let some other people test it out and said he’ll pass notes on to you.”
“How many times did she come?” he asks lecherously.
“Once,” I tell him honestly.
“And let me guess… once again on your cock?”
Twice, actually.
“She wasn’t all that great,” I find myself lying to him so he’ll quit asking so many fucking questions.
“Probably because you couldn’t jack hammer her the way my machine did.” He breaks off into peals of laughter, but I remain quiet.
“Dude… what’s wrong with you?” Micah asks because he’s my best friend—like my brother—and I never hesitate to share the nitty-gritty details of my sex life if he asks. We’ve been swapping personal porn stories for years.
“Nothing man,” I say in a tired voice, but I’m more fatigued from the stress of tonight than anything.
“Alright,” he says, his voice clearly unsure if he accepts what I’m saying. But thankfully, he lets it go. “I’ll get up with you in a few days. I’m thinking about taking a trip down there.”
“Why?” I ask a little too defensively. “I mean… didn’t you just take a week off to go to Cabo last month?”