Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 128356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
I stand in front of the full-length mirror and study the marks he left everywhere. My neck, collarbones, breasts, thighs, and my ass are full of hickeys, handprints, and bite and finger marks.
Damn. I look abused, but I’m blushing.
Because every mark brings back memories of how he touched me. It was rough and unapologetic and out of control, but I felt…worshiped.
And he didn’t really hurt me. He always slowed down when it started to be too much, and he could tell from just the look in my eyes.
As if he could read what I was feeling.
That’s stupid.
Jude only sees me as a tool. Whether for revenge or sex—I’m still a tool.
He’s nowhere in the bedroom, probably having left in the middle of the night like the other time.
I check my phone and there’s nothing from him.
My shoulders hunch as I trudge to the bathroom. It’s not that I expected him to stay or text, but it still tightens my chest.
It shouldn’t.
I’ve never expected anything from the men I’ve fucked and have always had zero expectations. In fact, I was glad some of them didn’t get in touch again. Some of them told their friends I was like a dead fish and that a fuck doll had more emotions than me. One guy said fucking me was creepy as fuck because I had a poker face the whole time.
Maybe it was because I didn’t feel anything.
I definitely didn’t have a poker face last night. Not when Jude made me feel him instead of seeing him, talked dirty to me, praised me, and couldn’t get enough of me.
Maybe that’s why it feels like my chest will explode. The only man I’ve ever enjoyed sex with disappeared, and I’m…
I pause brushing my teeth, my eyes widening.
No. I can’t be disappointed or hurt. I’d have to care in order to feel those emotions, and I’d never care about Jude Callahan. I shouldn’t have even allowed him to fuck me, let alone enjoyed it.
But somehow, I forgot all about the safe word. Like, it completely slipped my mind.
It’s probably some stupid hormones that are muddying my head. That’s all.
After I finish freshening up and spend a long time putting on a hoodie and jeans, I grab my phone and pause as a text lights up my screen.
I rush to open it, but my heart falls when I don’t see Jude’s name.
Unknown number
Heeey! It’s the one and only, the man and the legend, Preston. Got your number from Daisy. Just kidding, she said no, so I had my methods. Anyway, want to hang out?
Me
Hi, Preston. I’m not sure why you’d want to hang out with me.
Preston
Because I’m better company than Jude and Dakota combined. And I’m definitely a better fuck. Not that I’m saying we should fuck, but it’s on the table just in case.
I’ll politely decline. Thank you, though.
Aw, don’t go hurting my feelings like that. Just think about it. I’ll see you around campus!
I’m staring at his text as I walk into the living area. Not sure why Preston seems hell-bent on getting close to me, but I’d rather stay away from anything related to Jude. Starting with the man himself.
“Who are you texting?”
I bump against a wall. A warm, tall, and broad wall.
My eyes widen, the phone nearly falling from my grip, as I stare at Jude. My neck hurts from how much I’m craning to look at him as he grabs my elbow, steadying me.
He looks so beautiful in jeans, a black T-shirt, and his full-sleeve tattoos that are on display.
“W-what are you doing here?” My mouth feels dry, and my belly tightens as his intoxicating scent triggers memories from last night.
“Brought some breakfast.” He motions at the table that’s stacked full of pancakes, eggs, toast, and three types of juices—orange, strawberry, and green. Who drinks three types of juices in the morning?
Jude, apparently.
I ignore the flutter in my chest as I step back, then wince, because, really, I feel him inside me with every move. And the fact that he’s actually standing in front of me fills me with flashes of warmth.
“Why did you bring breakfast?” I ask.
“Why not?” He glares at my phone. “And you’re not changing the subject. Who are you texting?”
“So now I can’t text anyone without telling you?”
He narrows his eyes the slightest bit. “Preferably.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I walk past him, mainly to escape the trap of his intense gaze and the way my body is reacting to that gaze. “Shouldn’t you be at practice?”
“You’re following my hockey schedule?” There’s slight amusement in his tone.
“I don’t have to. You and the Vipers are kind of everywhere in this town.”
“Apparently not everywhere, because you still haven’t come to see me play live. You should do that sometime.”
“And watch you beat up people up close and personal? No, thanks.”
He narrows his eyes but says nothing.