Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 127146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
I sit back and watch as she scrolls through tabs. She navigates between her class schedule, tutoring schedule, and an essay she’s supposed to be writing. I smile to myself. How can something so simple be so interesting?
I’m not surprised to find that she has a full schedule on top of the tutoring appointments she does in her limited free time. I think that might be why I’m so intrigued by her. She’s nothing like I’d expect. Careful, boring, normal. Even worse, she’s caring. Caring enough that she’s willing to give herself to a beast like me to help her mother. Her very sick but in denial mother. At least from what I can tell from their numerous texts. I scan through the remaining messages checking each, one by one.
My finger hovers over the next text from one of her many tutoring clients. A rush of irrational anger floods my veins, making it difficult for me to breathe and my vision blurry.
Stewart: I was thinking maybe you might want to go out sometime?
What the fuck? Rationally, I know I have no stake or claim over her. We fucked one time, and that’s it. She isn’t anyone or anything to me, just some girl with a nice pussy, but in many ways, I already know it’s more than that. This makes me want to demand she drop him as a client altogether, but I doubt she would do that. I make a mental note to look into this fucker, and leave it at that for now.
I finish stalking through her recent browser history, and pause when I discover a dress she'd been looking at, that she added to her cart but never ended up buying. It takes less than a minute to copy the link, log in, and purchase it for her. If I buy the damn thing, I will feel absolutely zero guilt when I rip it off her little body before shoving my cock deep inside her pussy. Which I will be doing again and again. The image of it makes my cock harder than steel.
Father flashes across the top of the screen, and I contemplate tossing the damn phone across the room instead of answering his call but choose against it. The damn world had better be coming to an end if I’m not answering his calls. Slamming my finger against the green answer key, I bring the phone to my ear.
There are no pleasantries or kind greetings. My father isn’t exactly your typical dad. Not even close. "What the fuck did you feel the need to spend ten grand on?"
I inhale deeply through my nose and go to that dark place in my mind where I disappear too when I need to speak to my father. "Oh, you know, Pops, the usual: hookers and blow."
“Did you not hear me the first fucking time? This isn’t a joking matter. Now answer me, or I’ll have the nurse forget your mother’s pain medication this evening.”
I grit my teeth, a spiteful response sitting on the tip of my tongue. It's less violent than what he usually threatens me with, but it’s still fucked up. Using my own mother and her health against me. It’s insane to me that a man could use his own dying wife as a bargaining chip, but it’s not surprising. It’s always the thinly veiled threats of refusing to give her pain meds or treatments. It’s either stay in line or risk losing the only person who’s ever given a shit about me a little faster. I’ll always choose to keep my mother because as long as she is still here, I know pieces of good remain inside me. "She’s not just my mother, but also your wife, or have you forgotten that?”
“What did you just say to me? I think you’ve forgotten who you’re talking to. I’m not one of your stupid fucking friends. If using your mother against you is the only way I can get through to you, then I will.”
Biting back the desire to spar with him, I answer his question instead. “The money was for costs associated with The Hunt."
“I see, and how was this year's event?” It’s crazy to me how quickly he can switch to business mode.
I shrug even though he can't see it. "Attendance was good. Best show out for a semi-public event in the past few years."
He hums in the back of his throat. "Good, good. Next time, clear the expenses with me first. I know you like to think you have special privileges as my son, but we run by a code. Things need to be done the right way."
No fucking thank you. I don't say that out loud, though, and choose to remain silent instead. Sometimes saying nothing is better than saying something but never being heard.