Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 41621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 166(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 166(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
Rutger growls. “Mother. Fucker.”
I look away. Telling someone, telling Rutger, a weight comes off me. Like I can let it go now. I shake my head on a shrug, rolling my lips together, remembering how he got to me. “A waitress told him I still had my v-card. He paid girls to find virgins for him.”
When Rutger repeats himself—“Motherfucker!”—there’s murder in his roar, and he surges to his feet.
He erupts from the table and goes for his shoes and jacket.
“Oh, shit,” I say. It hadn’t occurred to me that my painful memory might be motive for Rutger to murder my ex-boyfriend. I hurry to follow him. “Nothing happened, I promise. When I saw Don’s bedroom, I knew what I’d heard from the one member of his staff that liked me was true. I climbed out the window with Frida and a few clothes in my backpack, and got on a bus. I’m safe now. I’m here.”
“Tell me where he is. I’m going to fucking murder him,” Rutger says, whipping his jacket around his shoulders.
The thought of Rutger and Don fighting terrifies me. Even though Rutger is so much bigger, he’s really just a teddy bear. Don is rotten on the inside. He’s got goons. He fights dirty. That doesn’t mean Rutger won’t win against him—he would—but Rutger might have to use enough force to murder Don, and what happens to him after that?
So I wrap myself around Rutger’s arm, press my cheek to his biceps. “You wouldn’t leave me alone, would you?”
He’s still seething, but when he catches a look at my face, something shifts. He promptly starts forgetting the outside world again. “I want to kill him,” Rutger says, matter-of-factly.
“But then I’d be alone.” I run my finger down the hard muscles of his chest. “I want to be with you…Daddy.”
That gets his attention.
His eyes wander down my body, and every passing second makes him get further from rage and closer toward desire. He’s like a horny teenage boy.
Rutger just discovered sex, and he wants more.
Hell, it feels like the two of us invented it. Like nobody’s ever been as good or amazing or mind-shattering as we are together.
I want more too.
So when he picks me up, swinging me into his arms, I’m already getting wet again. It doesn’t take much with Rutger. Just feeling the strength vibrating in his muscles is enough to liquefy my legs.
“You’re not a trophy,” he snarls.
“Not for anyone but you,” I say.
“Not even for me. You’re so much more than that.”
He tosses me on the couch in his second bedroom. We’re surrounded by drawings of me. I have no choice but to see my curves from every angle, drawn by people who are grateful for my presence—people who are kind, artistic, and understanding. It’s not like facing myself in a mirror. It’s like facing myself in a dream.
Rutger’s are my favorites. They stick out from the others, all bright and vibrant and alive in a unique way.
“You see how beautiful you are?” he asks, running his hands up my bare legs. He greedily memorizes my shape by curving his fingers around every inch of skin. “Even those people, they see it. They see you’re special. That you’re art.”
“I’m art when you’re drawing me,” I say as his touch finds its way down to my ankles. “Your eye is the only one I care about.”
He draws my foot into his mouth, rolling his tongue over my toes. It’s just this side of ticklish. I had no idea my feet were so sensitive.
Rutger massages those powerful thumb pads into the soles of my feet while his tongue explores my painted nails, the space between my toes, the creases where they bend. An inhuman groan of satisfaction rolls out of my chest.
“Pretty girl,” he says, rubbing his beard along the sole of my foot, biting the side of it, licking my ankle. He licks his way up the inside of my leg to the crux of my thighs again. “I can’t get enough of you. My girl.”
“Yours,” I say.
“You’re never leaving.”
“I won’t,” I promise. And I mean it.
I don’t know how much time passes. He ate me out, and then I ate him—fair is fair. I couldn’t even get both of my hands around his cock. My mouth barely could take the head. He didn’t let me finish him inside my mouth anyway. As soon as he started tightening up and breathing fast, he shoved himself up inside my pussy and poured himself out there.
“Gonna put a baby in you.” Those words tipped me over the edge.
But after a while, Rutger fell asleep wrapped around me. I can’t help but feel a little smug about it, like I sucked the absolute life out of him. He’s dead to the world. I lift up an arm to roll out from underneath, and it flops back to the bed limply. His breathing doesn’t even change.