Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 147801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
I type ‘amateur’ and go from there. These are better, at least they’re not too fake and the noises aren’t grating, but they still do nothing for me. If anything, I’m angling my head and watching them with pure objectivity as if it’s an assignment.
If I were gay, I’d find this hot, right?
But I don’t. Actually, I’m bored.
That means I’m not gay.
End of the story.
In your face, demon.
Though straight porn does nothing for me either, but that’s not for here or now.
I’m about to close the browser when one of the guys on the screen starts fingering the other dude’s ass and I swallow. Not because of what’s on the screen, but because I’m seeing the image of that damn bastard behind me.
I close my eyes as my dick twitches back to life, throbbing as the sensations from last night play in my mind.
Motherfucker.
The porn video’s sound pauses, and I startle when a text pops up at the top of the screen. And it’s from none other than the asshole himself.
I close the porn screen as if he’s watching me or something and remove the earbuds.
Devil
So you did unblock me. You want to talk to me that much, huh?
Me
I only did that so you wouldn’t show me your creepy face.
I know you miss me.
Don’t make me block you again.
Aw, so now you want to see me?
Not even in hell.
You say that as if it can’t be arranged. Tell you what. You know where my place is, so if you miss me that much, you can drop by whenever you want.
No, thanks.
You say that a lot. It’s starting to lose effect.
And you ignore it a lot. It’s like talking to a fucking wall.
Language.
You’re not my dad.
How is your relationship with him? Your dad?
If you’re looking for some daddy issues, I have none. Dad and I are actually pretty close. Better luck next time.
Does he know who you truly are, my little monster?
I drop my hand from the corner of my mouth because I was about to eat the fucking skin around my thumb. Like a goddamn kid.
When I don’t reply, he sends another text.
He doesn’t, does he? You wouldn’t be so close if he did. Let me guess, he didn’t know how to deal with your brother when he was diagnosed, and there was probably some form of wedge between them, and you didn’t want that. You don’t want to be discarded by your father, which means you respect him a lot, or you wouldn’t have cared. Maybe that’s why you wear different personas in public and private. You don’t allow anyone, your closest friends and family included, to see what truly lurks beneath the Disney prince image. Are you scared they’ll find you unsightly? Disturbing? You don’t care about acceptance, so what is the true reason, my little monster? I can keep a secret.
I scoff at my phone, even if I find his words disturbing. It’s unsettling that he can read me so openly like a damn book. Not all that is true, but much of it is.
Here’s a little idea for you, Professor. Instead of psychoanalyzing me, how about you commit yourself to a mental institution? I’m sure they’d have a field day with you.
Only if you join me, baby.
Why on earth do you keep calling me that? I hate you and we’re not in any form of a relationship.
Why do you hate me?
Let’s see. You raped me. Three times. Keep threatening me and won’t leave me alone. Take your pick.
You shouldn’t throw stones when your house is made of glass. You started the rape thing first. I only let you get a taste of being on the receiving end instead.
And last night? I wasn’t going to do anything to anyone. What’s your excuse?
You looked beautiful.
wtf
What does that mean? I don’t do acronyms.
It’s what the fuck, dick. What are you, from the Stone Age? That’s been around forever.
Language.
Well, you just admitted to forcing yourself on me because I was beautiful. Excuse me if I don’t have the capacity to care about language. You won’t even try to find an excuse?
You’re the one who needs excuses, not me.
Me?
Here are your excuses, Carson. Last night, you could’ve fought, but you didn’t. You had the ability to call an army of guards to either restrain or kill me but didn’t. You wanted that as much as I did. But that’s just my two cents. Here’s your homework to think about tonight. Since you’re so straight, why would you come from prostate fucking?
I’m about to curse him, but I hear heavy footsteps running down the hall and flip my phone upside down, then pretend to be focused on my homework. Even if my insides are ripping with rage.
A few seconds later, my door is shoved open and rattles against the wall. I look up, feigning surprise at the sight of Niko.