Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 129955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
“Is it not enough that you’ve had my friends? You have to have me too? Do you think I’m just going to give it up to you because you’re in my bed every night?”
It’s like having a bucket of ice-cold water thrown over my head.
My eyes narrow as his comment instantly stings. He didn’t technically call me a slut, but it sure as hell felt like it. I sit right up, pushing against his chest as I remain straddled over his waist. “You kissed me,” I say in a warning, letting him know that I’m not going to hold back if this is the road he wants to travel down. “I didn’t ask you for this, you fucking offered it up. What’s the point? Why would you do that if you didn’t want it to lead anywhere? Or are you just some sick, sadistic asshole who gets hard off toying with my emotions?”
Carver’s eyes drop over my body, taking in the way my pussy still presses against his throbbing cock. “Look at you, baby. You’re in my bed, lying in my arms, rubbing your sweet pussy all over me and you’re trying to tell me that’s not what you came here looking for? I can read you, Winter, I have been able to since the second you showed up here. I know what you fucking want.”
Yep. He’s definitely calling me a slut.
A frustrated groan tears through me and I pull back off him before scrambling off the end of his bed. I cut across to the door, and as I go, I look back at the guy who does absolutely nothing but confuse the living shit out of me. “Come on, babe,” he says, watching me leave. “You don’t have to go. Just come back to bed and we’ll sleep.”
Ugh. Fuck him. I’m not going to stay here and listen to how he thinks I’m whoring myself out then allow him to spend the night with my body pressed up against his. Screw that. I don’t need him. I have other ways of keeping the monsters at bay. Besides, if I’m going to be miserable, then I sure as hell won’t be doing it with an audience.
I walk out the door and slam it behind me, hating how fucked-up this whole situation is. I’m kinda with Cruz, and kinda with King, but whatever’s been growing with Carver seems so much deeper than that. It’s private and intimate despite there being nothing sexual up until now. Though after that performance, he can kiss my ass.
The bigger question is, why am I even thinking about this right now? I killed a man less than three hours ago and instead of asking Carver what happened when he went back there, I was too busy rubbing my pussy all over him.
Damn it. Maybe I am a fucking slut.
Screw him. I was so comfortable with who I am, and after one thirty-second-conversation with Dante Carver, I’m here questioning myself.
I fly back down the hall, marching straight past Cruz’s door and feeling like a complete bitch. I was happy lying in his arms despite the fact that finding sleep was impossible. I should have just stayed there with him, but now, if I were to walk back in there, Carver would be right. How can I just go jumping around from one bed to another?
I reach my bedroom and storm right through the door, turning on the light as I go. I walk around my room before doing it again and again, my rage making it impossible to stop. I’d give anything to be able to collapse back onto my bed and close my eyes, but wishing for that kind of peace is like wishing for snow in the driest desert.
My hands curl into fists, opening and closing as I desperately try to calm myself, but the longer it goes on, the more that old burn begins to stir within me.
I need to get out of here. I need to release this anger and there’s only one way that I know how to do it.
I strip out of Cruz’s soft clothes and find the ones that I’d left in the bottom of his shower after breaking in here when school let out. It’s hard to believe that was only this afternoon, less than twelve hours ago.
My clothes are sitting on the edge of my bed, folded nicely and smelling cleaner than any of my clothes have ever smelled before, and damn it, they’re even soft. Did Cruz do this? I’ll have to remember to thank him later. I don't know how much longer I can go on wearing boys’ clothes that are a million sizes too big, but there’s no doubt about it, I’ve never been so comfortable in my life. Though, if I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it right.