I’d never both hated and wanted something so much in my entire life.
A quick hate fuck might wipe away the unfamiliar sentimental feelings rolling around in my twisted brain, but the girl was injured and passed out in my bed.
Technically, you can say that I was caring for her.
Technically, I wanted to face fuck her until she gagged.
My conflicted feelings were giving me a fucking migraine.
I had to get out of there. There was no good that could come of me touching her while she slept, but I couldn’t bring myself to get off the bed. Then she stirred. Just a little, just enough to remind me that I was crossing into Preppy territory. But I couldn’t leave just yet. What if she woke up and tried to escape? Then, I would really never know where the redhead went with my money.
I ignored the fact that it was impossible for her to escape, especially since I had her handcuffed to my headboard. Instead of getting up and walking out the fucking door like I should have, I stripped down to my boxer-briefs and got in bed beside her. Hauling her back against my chest, I covered us both with the blanket.
It was a first for me. I’d never been underneath the covers in my bed with a woman before. I’d never let anyone stay long enough to sleep before.
I splayed out a hand on her concave stomach, the heat from her core radiating onto my thigh making my dick even harder. I propped my head up on my elbow and found myself fascinated at the contrast between us, her pale and perfect, to my tanned and heavily tattooed.
Now I was painfully hard.
The thought of tearing off those innocent little school girl panties and defiling her pussy with my cock right then and there sent spasms up my spine. The only reason I came back to the room earlier was because I’d changed my mind. As innocent as she appeared, she was the one who’d offered herself to me, and who the fuck was I to say no to that?
Maybe prison had changed me, but I wasn’t ready to accept that change. I had been downstairs for only ten minutes when I turned on my heel and headed back upstairs to strip her down, bend her over, and show her what the fuck she’d gotten herself into.
I twisted a lock of her white-blonde hair in my fingers. Over and over again, I reminded myself that the girl was a thief and a whore and that I had every right to take payment for what she stole from me and then some.
I owned this bitch.
She was mine to take.
Only as much as I wanted to roll on top of her and sink deep down inside, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
There was more to this girl’s story than what was obvious on the outside. Her friend was obviously a junkie with her humungous pupils and shiny red nose. This girl didn’t act like a junkie, but her clothes and rail thin frame had me thinking that dope could be the only reason she’d be hanging around with Bear and his crew.
I was going to pry her story from her when she woke up. Then I was going to decide what my plans were for her which would preferably consist of naked and on her knees.
She let out a deep sigh, and I stilled, fearing she might wake before I had the chance to get out of bed, but oddly enough her entire body relaxed back into me. Her ass pressed against my straining erection.
I stifled a groan.
Only my boxers and her panties separated us. I wanted to rock against her, alleviate the pressure building in my balls, but I stopped myself and just as quickly as I’d gotten into bed, I got back out.
I picked my jeans up from the floor. Before I left the room I glanced back at the girl sleeping in my bed. The moonlight shone through the window making her blonde hair appear even lighter, her skin even paler.
I didn’t know whether I wanted to kill her or fuck her.
Maybe both, but one thing was for sure.
One way or another, I was going to make her scream.
I was finally starting to feel like my old self again.
I awoke groggy and confused. My skull felt like it was going to crack open against the pressure of my aching head. The mattress underneath me was soft, the sheets cool against my skin. A much better alternative to the park benches or pavement where I usually made my bed.
I stretched out my legs one by one, then raised my arms to do the same. Except my left arm wouldn’t cooperate, it was stuck. My eyes sprang open when I heard a rattling. My wrist was bound to the headboard.
I sat up quickly and glanced around in a panic. Sharp scratching pain assaulted the side of my head when my shoulder brushed my ear. Feeling around, I realized my left ear had been covered in some sort of bandage. Then, I remembered the events of the night before.
I’d been shot.
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