Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 91064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
I explode inside of her mouth.
She swallows it, and she’s still licking my cock and I fall back onto the bed and throw an arm over my face.
“Jesus Christ.”
“It’s Scarlett,” she mocks me.
I have to pull her off my cock because she’s still going at it and she loves it just as much as I do. But I need a breather and we need to talk.
She lays down beside me, and we’re both quiet and I’m thinking about what I want to do with her today. She apparently is thinking how to ruin this.
“So, we’re even now, right?”
“What?” I pull my arm off my face and glance over at her.
“I made you feel good. So we’re even.”
“Don’t ye ever just give it a fecking rest?” I ask her.
She glares at me and covers up her tits, and this is all wrong.
“I don’t like to owe anyone anything.”
“For fucks sake,” I growl under my breath. “Can ye please dispense with the bleeding bullshit? Just for five minutes, Scarlett. This was not a goddamn tit for tat.”
“You’re right.” She bolts up and starts gathering up her clothes. “It was nothing.”
She looks me in the eye then, goading me.
“Even less than nothing,” she clarifies. “Because I’d have to care for it to be something. And as you already know, I just have this thing where… well I really don’t give a fuck. About anyone.”
“That’s how ye want to play it?” I ask.
I’m exhausted with this game, and when she pulls shite like this, it’s hard not to be. She’s always pushing me away. Always trying to cut me and make me bleed. She’s so quick to draw her weapons, and the most dangerous one is always her tongue.
But then I take one look at her, and I know that I’ll always play this game with her.
Because I do care.
And Scarlett needs someone to care about her. For at least once in her life.
Sixteen
Scarlett
Put on your boxing gloves, sports fans. Looks like there’s another contender.
Conor gives me a lift home at Rory’s insistence.
He’s quiet and broody which suits me just fine. Don’t know what I ever did to offend his delicate sensibilities but I don’t really give a fuck either.
When he pulls up to my apartment building, I make a mad dash for it because all I wanted was a ride and not an attitude. But Conor follows me up the stairs- uninvited- and I’m already annoyed and why the hell is he still here?
“I don’t need an escort,” I tell him.
“Saint doesn’t want you going in to the apartment alone,” he says. “I’ve got orders, and I’m going to follow them, whether you like it or not.”
The way he says he’s got orders makes him sound like he’s about to invade the Middle East. And I want to tell him if he wants to enlist, all he had to do was say so. But one look at him and I know Conor couldn’t handle my war.
“What are you going to do?” I ask. “Protect me from the big bad wolf?”
“You really are a bitch,” he mutters.
Words are just words and sticks and stones and all that, but it bothers me that he thinks so because I am a bitch but he doesn’t need to say it.
“Don’t act like you know me.”
I unlock the door and he barges in before me, going about his duties like a good soldier. He checks for monsters and killers, completely oblivious to the fact that the worst is already standing right in front of him.
“Satisfied?” I ask.
He pauses at the kitchen counter and looks at me.
“I felt sorry for you,” he says. “That whole thing that happened with the butcher? You didn’t deserve that. Nobody deserves that, Scarlett.”
The scars on my chest burn the way they always do when someone brings it up. I want him to stop talking and I tell him so.
He carries on anyway.
“I get that you’re fucked up in the head. But we’ve all had a shitty go of it, okay? Even Rory. It doesn’t give you the right to take your hate out on everyone else.”
“Stop talking,” I tell him again. “And get the fuck out of my apartment.”
“He cares about you,” Conor says. “And I know you’re fucking with him. I can see it in your eyes. We all can. He doesn’t deserve that any more than you deserve what happened to you.”
He keeps talking about the butcher and he’s being an asshole and now it’s all I can see. All I can feel. His body on top of me. Inside of me. His taunting words and the blade of his knife slashing through my skin.
Conor’s laughing. Or is it just in my head?
No, it’s the butcher, laughing. And then it multiplies. Alexander and his friends. They are all laughing too. It’s five pairs of hands holding me down. Choking me. His laughter starts to multiply and I scream for it to stop. But it’s five pairs of hands and voices and faces and…