Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
I shatter with his dick in my mouth.
I finish hard, sucking the whole time. He praises me as I break. He tells me I’ve never been so beautiful in my life. I’ve never looked so perfect. And as fucked as it is, I believe him.
“That’s such a good girl,” he whispers as I finally come down. He strokes himself, staring at me like I’m a work of art.
“I feel like I’m glowing.”
“That’s good. That’s what we want.”
“But what about you?”
“We have time for me.” He kisses my lips and runs a wet finger around my nipple. “Are you in a rush?”
“No, that’s not what I meant.”
“Good.” He bites my chin. “Because I’ve only just started with you.”
Right then and there, in the darkness with the most beautiful monster I’ve ever seen, I decide I’m not going to worry about anything tonight. Whatever he wants, I want too. Whatever he needs, I’ll give him. And when I have an urge, I’ll satisfy it without worrying. Tonight isn’t about the outside world.
It’s about this man and nothing else. No shame, no fear.
Only release and freedom.
I push him back and climb on top. He looks pleased as I straddle him. “I’m still a little sensitive,” I say, arching my back and grinding myself along his shaft.
“I can be gentle.”
“Good—”
“But I didn’t want to be.”
He pulls me down his length and thrusts deep inside.
I gasp as he fills me. It’s pure sensory overload.
“Good girl,” he whispers right into my ear.
Sunlight streams through the window. I wake aching all over. I have bruises on my arms and teeth marks on my breasts. My pussy feels like someone kicked me.
It’s pretty incredible.
I stretch, grinning, and reach to the other side of the bed.
It’s empty.
I sit up in alarm. The clock says it’s slightly past eight in the morning. Panic slams into my guts. I jump to my feet and look around for my phone.
There are a dozen missed calls from my father.
“Oh, fuck,” I groan, rubbing my face. I try to come up with some excuse that’ll work, but even in my own head, it all sounds stupid and pointless.
He’s going to kill me.
But first things first. I use the bathroom and get dressed. There’s no sign of Mass anywhere. His place is much neater and emptier than I noticed the night before. It’s almost like nobody lives here. Once I’m ready, I hurry down into the kitchen, already navigating to the Uber app and thinking about my escape.
I find a note left on the kitchen counter and coffee still warming in the carafe.
Allie—There’s a car waiting for you downstairs. Tell the driver where you want to go and he’ll take you. See you some other time. Mass.
Nothing else. No phone number. No way of getting in touch. I realize as I look around that I don’t know a damn thing about the guy. Not a last name, no way of looking him up, nothing beyond some scribbled words and a memory.
It almost doesn’t feel real.
I’ve never done anything like this before.
Sneaking off to go dancing is about as dangerous and risky as I get. I’ve never gone home with a total stranger in my life.
Much less a man like Mass.
But last night was incredible. I’ve never let my guard down with someone before, and with him, it was easy. The sex was fantastic, but there was something else too.
I felt safe. And beautiful.
It’s odd how a total stranger made me feel complete.
I was the center of his world for a night.
It’s over now. The memory’s already starting to fade. I have the little marks to prove it all happened, but those are a problem too. I’ll have to sneak inside, cover them up, and hope Dad’s too distracted by work to ask questions.
This is going to be bad. Really, really bad.
And if given the choice, I’d do it all over again.
“Goodbye, Mass.” I pour myself some coffee into a random mug, throw it down, and hurry outside.
Figuring I’ll never see him again.
MASS
Most days, Scampia Island is a paradise. Temperate but warm with winds that cut through most of the worst humidity. I paid an obscene amount of money for this place, but it was worth every penny.
The original dream was for a private oasis away from the world. This was meant to be my escape. I worked hard all my life, killed, stole, plotted, and burned my way to the top. Scampia Island was meant to be a reward for all that.
Now it’s something else, mostly thanks to Lucy’s constant scheming.
“Three of the five families are here,” she says as we stroll along the walkway that connects the Fortress half of the island with the Resort. An overhang covers us from the morning sun. Behind us, an enormous wall with a checkpoint gate recedes into the distance, and ahead, the sumptuous Resort structure looms like paradise.