Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
"Get out of my apartment."
"Not until you tell me."
"Tell you what?"
"Did he fuck your throat? Did he make you gag on his cock until tears ran down your face?" My voice drops lower, rougher. "Did he tie you down and edge you until you begged? Or did he just stick his dick in and pump away like every other boring fuck you've had?"
"You want to know?" Scarletta's voice cuts through the space between us. Sharp. Clear. Not trembling anymore.
I stop stroking. My hand freezes mid-shaft, fingers tight around my cock as I look at her. Really look at her.
She's standing straighter now. Chin lifted. The towel clutched in one hand but her posture isn't defensive anymore—it's defiant.
"You want to know what Ryan did to me?" She takes a step closer. "Fine. I'll tell you."
My pulse spikes. Every muscle in my body goes rigid.
"He made me come," she says, voice steady, "just by putting his finger in my mouth."
My cock twitches in my grip.
"He told me he wanted to film me. I told him I'd done paid sexual work before. That I wasn't interested in his bullshit pitch. I didn't need money to fuck him. I fuck whoever I want, whenever I want." Another step. She's close enough now I can smell her shampoo—vanilla and something floral. "He asked if I like to submit."
My breathing quickens. I start stroking again. Slow. Controlled.
"I told him I only submit to professionals. And you know what he did?" Her eyes lock onto mine. "He pushed his finger into my mouth. Just shoved it in like I was a whore. And I came. Right there. Fully clothed. Just from his finger."
My hand moves faster.
"He laughed at me. Called me a whore. Asked if he could check my pussy to see if I was telling the truth." She watches my hand pumping my shaft. "I said yes."
"Fuck," I moan...
"He touched me and I came again. On his fingers. Instantly." Her voice drops lower, quieter. Deadly. "He has a table too, Caleb. With stirrups. He locked my ankles in and ripped my clothes off—didn't even bother undressing me properly. Just tore through my leggings like they were tissue paper."
I'm jerking myself hard now, breath coming harsh through my teeth.
"He spread me wide open. Bound. Helpless. Exactly the way I like it." She tilts her head. "And then he fucked me so hard I felt it for hours afterward."
My orgasm builds—pressure coiling tight at the base of my spine, balls drawing up.
"He came all over me. Marked me. Told me to come back tomorrow morning at five AM for round two."
I come.
Hard.
Violently.
My hand works frantically as I spurt across my stomach, my chest, hot ropes of come painting my skin while I stare at her face and hate everything about this moment.
Hate that she's watching. Hate that she told me. Hate Ryan. Hate myself.
Hate that I can't stop.
Love that it's her that makes me so sick.
The release doesn't help. Instantly, I'm hard again.
Scarletta notices. Her eyes go wide before she can stop them. Then she looks at me. "You're pathological."
"Absolutely," I moan. Stroking again. Ready to come a third time.
"You're a walking nightmare."
"Yes. A certifiable fucking monster. What's your point."
The incredulous look on her face makes me smile. Then it's my turn.
"You want to know your taste in men, baby?" I keep stroking, slow and deliberate. "Let me tell you. Your taste in men is me."
She opens her mouth to protest.
"You begged me to fuck your throat in that cabin. Begged me to make you gag on my cock until you couldn't breathe. You came so hard you blacked out—multiple times—and every time you woke up, you wanted more."
"I don't remember that," she says, but her voice wavers.
"I know you don't. Subspace psychosis, remember? But I recorded everything." My hand moves faster. "You on your knees, choking on my dick, tears streaming down your face while you moaned around my shaft. You bent over the table, spread wide, begging me to fuck your ass. You strapped to the cross, screaming for me to hurt you harder."
"Stop—"
"You came seventeen times in four hours. I counted. You passed out twice from the intensity and woke up begging for my cock inside you again." I'm jerking myself hard now, watching her face flush. "You told me you needed it. Needed me to use you like the desperate little slut you are."
"You're disgusting," she spits.
"Says the woman who just fucked her gym trainer with her legs in stirrups."
"At least I can get off without jerking myself like a lonely fucking teenager!"
I grin. Stop stroking just long enough to spread my arms wide—cock standing hard and obscene between my thighs. "I've got more come inside me for you, Scarletta. All you have to do is sit on my lap."
She stops breathing.
Complete stillness. Her chest freezes mid-inhale.