Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
“It’s never too late.” I take a breath.
Her phone starts ringing again, and she looks down at her purse, then at me.
“For us, it is.” Then she opens the door and I watch her leave, hearing her answer the phone.
“Fuck.” I sit on the edge of the bed, then flop back and stare at the ceiling. “Do not go after her. You need to give her time,” I grumble, rubbing my face, smelling her delicious cunt.
“Fuck this.” I reach down inside my boardshorts, grab my thick, hard cock, and stroke it.
This was not how any of this was supposed to go. But I’m wound up too tight to think straight.
I jerk my shorts down and close my eyes. My breathing picks up while I jack myself off, hard, fast. And there she is, my Lolita. I grunt, envisioning her. Those beautiful lips open as her eyes dip to watch me pleasure myself.
“Yeah,” I hiss as my hand picks up speed, and the need to come overtakes me. Licking my lips, I taste her cum.
“Fuck…” My body tightens as I let it build. “Raven,” I call out. Hot sperm pulses out of me onto my stomach. I don’t move, just stay still, letting my breathing return to normal. I consider my next move.
With a groan, I stand, pulling my shorts up and walking into the bathroom to clean the sperm off my chest, barely looking at myself in the mirror.
“Get your shit together, Jett.” I turn the sink on to splash some water on my face, almost laughing at how all the women I’ve wronged in my life have finally gotten their revenge.
She said no.
She said it’s too late.
I rip the towel off the rack and dry my face. Instead of throwing it on the floor for someone else to clean up, I fold it and lay it on the sink. Pulling my wallet from my side pocket, I leave a twenty-dollar bill on the extra folded towels.
Clearly, I need to rethink my tactics. Because she has to know no means absolutely nothing to me.
Christ, I’m completely thrown here. Flinging the door open, I take out my phone to track her. Good. She’s traveling back to her place. I text her.
ME: I can still taste you.
Three dots appear, then stop and start again, but nothing comes through, and I smile.
ME: Dinner tomorrow? I’m cooking.
I grin, knowing that will get a response.
RAVEN: Please don’t make me have to block you.
ME: Wouldn’t matter. I told you I’m not going anywhere. Might as well have dinner.
The dots appear again, then stop. Though I wait, apparently she’s not engaging anymore, so I walk out into the lobby.
This is just day one, Jett, I remind myself while I hand the key card to the woman at reception.
Give her time. The jury doesn’t always come back with a decision right away.
RAVEN
“Raven, wake up,” Cher sings as she plops down on my bed, crossing her legs and smiling at me.
“Oh God.” I groan and pull the pillow over my head.
Laughing, she grabs it. “Wake up. You have more groveling gifts.”
I’ve never seen Cher happier about Jett sending me all these gifts that mean nothing to me. They started arriving the day after the hotel visit. The first day he sent six platinum, sapphire, and diamond bangles. Exquisite, but I’ve left them in their turquoise box untouched.
Day two was boxes, and I do mean boxes of apparently the best dark chocolate in the world.
Day three, flowers. So many, I had the delivery man hand them out to shops on the street.
Day four, silk, lace, and leather lingerie.
Day five… well, day five was kind of unfair since he knows I have a weakness for shoes. It still pains me to look at all those boxes from Jimmy Choo, Prada, and Louboutin. I had to give them to Cher. Now I can’t go near her room because I see them, taunting me. Granted, my foot is a size six and Cher wears an eight. Whatever, she’s savvy; she can exchange them.
And here we are on day six. I almost don’t have the strength to look—it has to be amazing if Cher is singing.
I sigh and sit up, tossing my hair off my shoulders. My eyes feel like shit. I haven’t left the apartment in days, and I cry myself to sleep. The annoying sounds of construction are my only company. Cher delivers the gifts to me in the morning, then leaves with Matteo. Brody is consumed with school. And I pace my dark room, haunted by memories of him. The way he smells, his smile, that small dimple on his cheek that I’ve decided is mine and only I can see.
It’s like my heart that was bleeding is now racing, and I can’t seem to stop it. I feel like I’m on a treadmill that won’t stop.