Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 128812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
I imagine that each and every one of them is in a tragic cycle of fight-or-flight, and the instinct to look out only for themselves is the only way they see as their chance to survive.
"Love the scratch of it all over my body," she says, a sultriness in her tone that might be believable to some of the other guys here.
Surely, none of the men involved with this compound think these women are just so happy here and always sexually charged and ready for anything. The bell ringing out should be evidence enough that there's no way twenty-plus women are just horny at the exact same moment and ready for whatever they may be offered.
But I guess people believe what they want. Maybe for some, believing it, no matter how ridiculous it is, is how they act on the expectations for men.
They're not supposed to pause and tell the woman they want to get to know them better. There's no dating in a place like this, at least not one visible to others. Showing interest in someone is a surefire way to end up on Bobby's radar and that girl in his bed as a power play.
That's what one of the guys called it earlier, and that's exactly what it is. Bobby is the end-all, be-all in this place, and he makes sure everyone around him is aware of it at all times.
"Don't spill my beer," I hiss when she shifts again, knocking my hand off the armrest of the chair we're sitting in.
She doesn't shy away from the anger in my voice. She simply puts her tits higher in my face as if the distraction will ward off any punishment she might be inching toward.
I'm not a mean person. Finding brotherhood and family in the Marines, and then again with Cerberus, changes a man. The angry man I portray here is who I used to be. That's the man Zayne knows from our shared history.
I don't want to be mean to her. I wouldn't, even if I didn't have a hint of what her story was, but, like these women, I don't particularly want to be touched.
I wouldn't go so far as to consider myself a victim, but I also have to act in ways I don't want to achieve the desired outcome.
It's fully expected for me to lose all focus on anything else with her in my lap. I'd be acting out of character as a member of this group to tell her to get the fuck off of me, but being unable to do that makes me no less like her, albeit likely on a much lower scale of consequences than she'd likely get with her refusal.
"I can make it up to you," she says, finally putting a little distance between us, only to run her hand down my chest and over the front of my jeans.
My lips form a flat line when she glances back up at me, my body showing no response to her attention.
That's not true. I could probably puke right now if I thought about it, but I can't feed the disgust that's building inside of me.
"It's okay," she says quickly, as if she's been blamed in the past for a man's body not working the way that it's expected to. "I can help you with that."
"Can you?" I ask, my voice intentionally slurred.
"Sure," she says, giving me a light smile. "Lots of guys around here need help."
I don't doubt that chronic use of drugs keeps them from getting an erection, or at a minimum, maintaining one. I can also see why there's fear in her eyes.
It wouldn't be the man's fault. It's always the woman's fault.
She isn't pretty enough.
She doesn't do enough in bed to turn him on.
Her body isn't perfect.
She's been with too many other men.
The list could go on and on.
"Wanna go back to your place?" she asks.
I look over her shoulder, watching as Zayne walks away from the fire pit with the girl he has chatted with twice.
Disgust swirls in my gut. How we're supposed to get out of this shit was one of the many questions I never got around to asking him the other day while we were out scouting for that house, and now that regret is eating me alive.
I'd like to think that he isn't the type of man who is all when in Rome, and takes advantage of one of these women just to keep his cover up, but who the fuck knows.
"Looks like the cabin will be occupied. My cousin just walked away with someone," I say, considering the outright rejection when I should have used it as an opportunity. "Let's go back to your place."
It would give me the chance to find out where on the compound the women are being held.