Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 34690 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 173(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34690 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 173(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
“Dane!” She cries out my name as her pussy clamps down around me. I come hard with her. Black spots form in my eyes. There is nothing that will ever be greater than this moment.
I give her every drop of me. I keep thrusting my hard cock inside of her, still wanting more. Her body goes lax underneath me, the last of her orgasm spilling out from her. I could keep going. Fuck, I want to, but I won’t hurt her. She’s already going to feel me tomorrow with every step she takes. My cock jerks inside of her at the thought.
I roll over, pulling her with me. Her body stretches out against mine. She lets out a sweet sigh, that smile forming back on her lips. It makes me feel like a king when I get that from her. It’s better than any business deal—or anything else, for that matter.
She is different from the rest of us. So sweet and naïve at times. They will all try to eat her alive when they realize she’s mine. I hold her tighter to my chest.
She’s all mine now.
Or she was…
1
Winnie
I slowly braid Faith’s hair, wanting to get it perfect for her. It’s strange that my fingers automatically know how to braid hair. They do it of their own accord without me even having to think about it. I notice that happens with certain things. There is no explanation for it. It’s maddening sometimes.
How can I know how to do all of these little things when I can’t even remember who I am? Even when it comes to something as simple as a name, there is nothing there. I only see darkness. It’s been that way for almost four months now. The doctor said my memory would come back to me, but nothing has.
“What color bow would you like?” Faith taps her finger against her lips, thinking about it. I’m not sure why I even asked. She’s going to pick pink. She always picks pink. Not that I can blame her. Who doesn’t love pink?
“Pink,” she finally says. I grab the bow off the table, clipping it into her hair.
“All done,” I tell her. She hops up, running over to take a look in the mirror. I love playing with her hair. The long locks go on forever. She has the kind of hair girls would die to have. She is as cute as a button. For some reason, though, her own mom can’t see that when she looks at Faith. She always seems to find something wrong.
“Your bows are the best.” She does a small spin. The yellow dress I found for her in the donations pile fans out around her.
“It’s time for your group circle read,” I remind her. Her face lights up. She loves books and would pick them over any toys. She and I can sit and read for hours, and she never grows bored. She has an endless imagination.
She skips over to me, surprising me when she drops a kiss on my cheek before she takes off across the giant room. She heads directly toward the blue rug all the kids are sitting on. It’s nice to see her fitting in. When she first got here, I could barely get her to talk. She was lost. I could relate to her because so was I.
“Hey.” Fawn drops down in the chair next to me. Her son Ace takes off toward the other kids to join them.
“Hi.” I give her a smile. Fawn is the guardian angel around here. She and her husband have made all of this possible. They’re the reason the organization has grown. I heard before they became involved that there were only a couple of small houses to take in women and children. But once Fawn got involved, she didn’t stop donating places and buildings until there was a spot for everyone. Her heart is giant. She’s the polar opposite of her husband.
“You want to do lunch? I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Yeah. I wanted to talk to you too.” I check on Faith before I grab my bag and we leave the shelter. Two guards trail behind us. If her husband Roman isn’t near Fawn, then these two follow her around. I don’t blame Roman. Not after the story Fawn told me about how they came to be.
“Pizza or diner?” Fawn asks.
“Diner. I love their fries.”
“Me too.” We cross the street, heading into the diner. We snag one of the booths.
“You getting a root beer, Winnie?” Jill asks. She pulls her pen out of the front of her apron. Jill is always done up. She reminds me a lot of Dolly Parton.
“Yes, please.” It’s nice that I’m starting to feel like this could be home for me. I’m finally beginning to settle in here. Everything doesn’t seem as scary as it did before. I am lucky that I landed here. God only knows what would have happened if I hadn’t.