Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
I pull his towel loose and his still-hard cock springs free. I admire it for a moment before hate fills me right back up to overflowing. Leaning forward, I grip his cock, place the tip in my mouth, and…
… I bite it.
He screams.
Loudly.
He flings me backward, but not hard enough to hurt me, and proceeds to cup his cock like it’s a precious baby.
“Have you lost your goddamn mind?” he bellows, his eyes crazed as he looks at me for an explanation. “You fucking bit my cock.”
I get back to my knees and say, “Good little slut, right?” I give him my best fuck-you smirk before I stand and turn to walk away from him, but he catches me by my waist and spins me back around. I hit his chest a few times to try and get away, but he pulls me close so my arms are trapped at my sides as he holds me hostage against his naked body. He can’t throw me back in the water now unless he picks me up and carries me back outside.
My phone starts dinging, and I ignore it while still trying to wriggle my body as much as I can to get him off.
He growls as it starts ringing. “Turn that fucking thing off. Who has a booty song as their ring tone anyway?” He lets me go and stalks off, still cupping his cock.
All I was trying to do was fuck him and look how that turned out.
When he returns, he’s fully dressed. He doesn’t say a word as he heads right out the door, leaving me here by myself.
Something he’s become increasingly good at.
He came back, eventually. We hardly spoke. Well, he didn’t speak at all when I asked him if he wanted to share some steak with me. He grunted, and then I passed out on the couch, looking out through the open doors to the inky ocean and the black sky.
When I sit up, I find him already awake and dressed. He’s sitting on the bed, food in front of him, as he does something on his phone.
No, hold up, that’s not his phone. Managing to stand despite my exhaustion, I walk over to him and snatch my phone from his hand.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I don’t have a passcode lock on it because I tend to forget it and my phone is always with me.
He picks up a piece of fruit and puts it in his mouth. “Who is Scott?” he asks.
A shiver takes hold of me at the sound of that name. I despise that name and all it entails.
“None of your business.”
“You see, I think it is.” He picks up another piece of fruit and holds it out to me. “Eat. You are way too skinny.” I swat the fruit from his hand, making it fly across the room. He isn’t bothered by my outburst, just reaches for another piece and does the same. “Now, I’ll ask again… who is Scott?”
“Aren’t you meant to be the nice one?” I ask with a huff. “Nice people do not go through each other’s phones.
He moves and produces his own phone, offering it to me. “You want to go through mine?”
“No.” A part of me does, I’m not going to lie. What type of pictures does he have on it?
“I can see you want to. Go ahead and take it. I did go through yours after all.” I snatch it from his hand and pocket mine in my jean shorts as I open his. “Password.”
“Twelve, ten.” I snap my gaze to his. That’s our wedding date. I don’t bother saying anything as I enter it, and it unlocks. I flick straight to his camera reel and see pictures of his niece filling the gallery. The last few are of us on our wedding day. I zoom in and look at my face—it looks like I’m in pain. Like I don’t want to be there. It’s true, I didn’t, but gosh. Getting out of his camera reel, I go to his messages. The first one is from Lucas, and it reads, “Fucked her in the ass yet? We all know that’s how you like it.” I almost laugh. There are several from Lucas—all taunts—with no replies from Joey.
Not much in here at all, so I close it and hand it back.
“Now, tell me who Scott is.”
“You don’t deserve to have that information.” No one knows who he is, not even my best friend, and I intend to keep it that way for as long as possible.
“I’m your husband. If you’re messaging some other guy, I should know.”
My hands start fidgeting, and I hate that they do that when I get nervous. “You don’t deserve to know,” I scream.
“So not only are you wanting a woman, but you also want another man?” he asks, clearly irritated now.