Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
I spit a mouthful of blood on the floor before scowling at Jordan, my mouth tingling with pain. “Are you kidding me? You did that all on your own. Him not talking to you has nothing to do with me and everything to do with the fact that you’re a fucking predator.”
He scoffs and shakes his head, and as I stare at him, it finally clicks. “Holy shit. You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”
His head snaps up, and he looks at me with murder in his eyes. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“Fuck. I’m right,” I laugh. “You never wanted to fuck me. You just wanted to touch what he had touched, be inside somebody that he’d been inside. You’re fucking sick, you know that?”
Jordan steps back into me, his deathly stare sending chills down my spine. He grips my shoulder, his nails digging into my skin. “I said,” he spits through a clenched jaw before his heavy fist slams straight into my stomach. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
My loud gasp rips through the room, his punch instantly winding me, and I struggle to catch my breath as hot, pain-filled tears spring to my eyes. And I decide at this very moment that if he’s going to take me out, then I’m going to go down swinging.
“You know he fucks like a goddamn machine,” I say, still gasping as my arms scream for relief. “After knowing him barely three seconds, he already had that thick cock buried inside my pretty little cunt. How long have you known him? Ten? Fifteen years? How far have you gotten with him?”
Jordan’s hand violently cracks across my face again. “STOP IT!”
“He’s a fucking beast. You should see the way he gets down. The way his body rolls with each thrust. It’s fucking perfection. But you know that, don’t you, because you’re a sick bastard. I bet you watch him fuck, don’t you? Wishing and waiting for your turn, but guess what? It’s never going to come. He’s never going to want you, especially not now.”
Jordan puts his hands to his ears, pressing hard to drown me out as he madly paces the small cellar. “SHUT UP. SHUT UP. SHUT UP.”
I laugh, realizing he’s a full-blown psychopath, and while I know I should keep my mouth shut, that wild part of me keeps me going, wanting him to hurt. “It’s almost ironic, don’t you think? Both you and your crazy mom, you’re doing all of this so you can get the Di Rozé men right back where you had them, but after today, after taking the one and only obstacle out of the way, neither of them will ever want anything to do with you again. You might as well start digging your own grave, right next to mine, because you’re never going to get him. Not now, not ever. You never stood a chance.”
Jordan lets out a sickening roar, and before I can even comprehend what he’s doing, his fists are pummeling into my body, the sound of the chain clanging above rocking through my ears. His fists slam into my body one after another, each delivered with a loud grunt as I cry out in agony.
My body breaks and bleeds under his attack, and all I can do is hang here like a fucking boxing bag and take the abuse. When he finally tires out, he stumbles back, falling against one of the bunk beds and dropping onto the bottom mattress.
His knuckles are bloodied, and he struggles to catch his breath as every inch of my body aches, desperately wishing I could crumble to the ground into a messy heap and cry.
Jordan just sits there, staring at the ground as the seconds turn into long, drawn-out minutes.
The silence is heavy, and as the pain quickly exhausts me, my eyes grow heavy, but when his sharp, barking laugh tears through the cellar, they spring back open, hoping like fuck he’s not about to hit me with round two.
“It’s funny. After he started fucking Chloe, I was actually going to let it go. At that party, I did want to just talk, but then you had to go and act all high and mighty, and I just . . . snapped. You were a dead bitch walking from the second Zeph punched me. From there, it was all about timing.”
I scoff, not having the energy to come up with some snappy retort about what happened at that party. We’ve already covered that shit. “Timing, huh? You make it sound like this was your grand plan. But it seems to me you’re just the muscle man, fulfilling your mom’s dirty little tasks. You don’t even see it. You’re her little yes-man puppet, and she’s the puppeteer.”
“You don’t know shit about my mother.”