Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 105506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 422(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 422(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“Not bad,” Colby said, his voice rough.
His hand reached around me for the gun.
“Next lesson tomorrow,” he stated before he stepped back and left me standing there.
Which was a good thing since my blood was burning, my heart was thundering, and I’d been about to pounce on him and let him fuck me against the wall.
COLBY
I prowled through the clubhouse with the gun in my hand, an incessant buzzing in my ears.
“Bro, I didn’t realize you were that serious about her—”
I placed my palm on Javier’s chest and shoved. I’d never put hands on a brother before. But I’d never felt like this before. Like a fucking animal.
“You touch her, you’re dead,” I informed him then kept going.
Slamming the door closed behind me, I unloaded the gun then threw it on my bed. In the next moment, my hand was in my jeans, bracing myself on the closed door. It only took a handful of strokes to get myself off, thinking about the fury on Sariah’s face, the defiance. Thinking about taking her, pressing her against that wall and fucking her brutally. Claiming her.
That fucking woman. She was driving me wild. Splintering all of the control I’d thought I had. I’d never wanted to dominate a woman before. Never wanted to redden a fucking ass.
But her?
Yeah, I was overwhelmed by the need to do it the more I got to know her. The more I heard her protests and saw her fighting her need for me.
She wasn’t going to give in easily, that I understood. No matter what she wanted, she’d made a decision, for whatever fucking reason. She was going to fight me every step of the way.
She was going to torture me.
And eventually, she’d pay for that.
SARIAH
During Violet’s pregnancy, she was back-and-forth between Providence and Garnett which meant I was back-and-forth between Providence and Garnett.
I got a job at a coffee shop, not because I needed the money but because I enjoyed it. The coffee was amazing, and Julian–the owner–was a character, to say the least. It was a different kind of work than any I’d done since I left home, and I liked it. Everyone thought my parents were rich since I attended an Ivy League college, wore designer clothes and prior to the coffee shop, didn’t have a job to speak of. Everyone who didn’t pay $200 a month to subscribe to my channel, that was.
The work was hard, my feet hurt, and some customers were assholes. I fucking loved it.
Unfortunately, word spreads in small towns, so it was quickly known that I worked there, resulting in Colby seeming to come in during every single one of my shifts.
He’d flirt mercilessly, and I’d shoot him down with the same lack of mercy.
He still gave me shooting lessons. I was getting really fucking good. At shooting and at not begging him to fuck me against the wall, in the dirt … any-fucking-where.
I’d never understood why people—men especially—were so fucking obsessed with guns. I’d always thought it was a compensation thing, like men with huge trucks and tiny dicks. I knew that Colby most certainly didn’t have a tiny dick since it was pressed up against me during every lesson. I also knew that the power from firing a gun, accurately, knowing that you could control such a weapon, was akin to the high from a drug. And like a drug, it made me horny as fuck.
Once we were done, Colby would stalk off with a tight expression, leaving me standing there, breathing heavily, panties soaked. I usually had to go straight to my apartment and use my vibrator until my clit was numb.
But I never was. And Colby was relentless. I couldn’t escape him in this fucking town.
I’d gotten good at masking my reaction to him sauntering into the coffee shop. He’d always hook his black Wayfarers into the front of his tee, hold open the door for slack-jawed women–and a good amount of men–who were coming or going. And his eyes were always, always on me from the second he walked in.
Even if my back was turned, I swore I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.
My skin would get hot, I’d feel my entire body tingling with his gaze, and my thighs would clench with need. It was really too much.
Colby would smirk as if he could read my mind, as if he knew that I was making a concerted effort to not seem interested.
I’d structured a vaguely irritated look on my face by the time he got to the front of the line.
“What do you want?” I demanded.
“Now, is that any way to talk to a customer?” he teased.
I scowled. “You don’t like it, go somewhere else.”
“There’s nowhere else to go. This is the best coffee within a hundred miles.”
“This is the best coffee in the fucking state,” Julian disputed from the coffee machine.