Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 90778 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90778 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“Your time’s wasting,” he says, his tone mocking, his gaze burning into me.
I want to scream at him, to demand answers, to ask him why—why he left, why he abandoned me, why he’s treating me like this now. But I won’t give him the satisfaction. I won’t let him see how much his cruelty cuts me.
“You’re an asshole,” I fling at him, my chest tight with suppressed emotion. “I don’t know what happened years ago to make you leave without a word and abandon me, but don’t act like I’m the sinner here.”
He doesn’t react, just watches me with that cold, detached expression that makes me want to break something. So I keep going.
“Well, I don’t care to kiss and make-up anyway,” I spit. “Fine, I need the money so I’ll do what you want. I’ll ride your dick hard and here’s hoping you forget whatever it is you want to.”
I turn my back on him and push my hands up my skirt. My fingers are trembling as I hook them under the thin band of my panties and quickly slide them down, the soft, wet fabric brushing against my thighs before they fall to the floor. I leave my skirt on. My face burns, but I hold my head high, refusing to let him see the war raging inside me.
I’m about to climb onto the bed when his voice slices through the tense air.
“I didn’t pay for a half show,” he says coldly, his eyes narrowing. “Strip. Then touch your boobs. Squeeze them. Show me what I’m paying for. Convince me it’s worth it.”
My breath catches. He is determined to get his pound of flesh. With gritted teeth, I force my hands to move. The hoodie catches briefly on my hair before I tug it free, letting it fall carelessly to the floor. I stand there, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, refusing to let my vulnerability show. My eyes meet his, daring him to look away—but he doesn’t. His gaze is locked on me, piercing and unrelenting.
My hands slide up to cup my breasts, the weight of them heavy in my palms. My fingers tremble slightly, but I dig my nails into my resolve, refusing to falter.
I squeeze them gently at first, my thumbs grazing over my nipples, hard against the chill of the room. His gaze darkens, eyes fixed on every movement like a predator locked onto its prey.
“More,” he commands, his voice low and edged with impatience. “Don’t make me wait.”
My stomach twists, but I do as he says, rolling my nipples between my fingers, a reluctant heat pooling in my belly. His breathing grows heavier, the tension between us thick enough to choke on.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a smirk that makes my skin crawl and ignite all at once. “This is what you’re made for. Now keep going.”
His words make me freeze. Humiliation wells up, sharp and suffocating. I feel like a piece of meat on display, but I force myself to breathe. He won’t see me crack. He won’t get the satisfaction I want to see skin.”
My hands move to the hem of my hoodie, gripping the fabric tightly to still the slight tremor in my fingers. I lift it slowly, peeling it away from my body, the cool air brushing against my skin as it rises.
He leans back against the headboard, his eyes roaming over me with a mixture of hunger and something darker, something colder. His jaw tightens, and I can see the way he fights against his own desire. The tension between us is electric, charged, and I hate the way it makes me feel.
I unclasp my bra, letting it fall. My breasts feel heavy under his gaze, my nipples hardening against the cool air. His eyes darken, and for a moment, he seems lost in the sight of me.
“Happy now?” I ask, my voice sharp, cutting through the silence.
“Not yet,” he says, his smirk returning. “But I’m getting there.”
His words linger in the air, sharp and cutting, as if daring me to push back.
“Cup them,” he commands, motioning lazily with his hand, his voice low and edged with impatience. “Squeeze them. Take that skirt off as well. Finger yourself.”
My breath catches. Heat rushes to my face, but I force myself not to hesitate.
“I’m getting bored,” he taunts. “Don’t forget, at any point, this agreement can end. I’m afraid you’ll have to work for the money you want, honey.”
My jaw tightens as a storm of emotions churns inside me—humiliation, defiance, and something I can’t fully name. I do as he says, but make sure my movements are mechanical and deliberately unsexy. Even so, his eyes darken with a hunger that’s barely restrained. As I take my skirt off, I notice my fingers trembling slightly so I clench my teeth to steady them.