Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 84289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Part of me didn’t believe Noah when he’d made the comments about Oliver being a “fuck machine,” but I understand now. He’s made to take a cock.
If that’s how good his mouth was… I can’t even begin to fathom how it would feel to fuck his ass, bending him over the desk and making him spread for me.
I breathe deep.
I try to clear my mind.
“Thank you,” Oliver whispers as he pulls back and lets go of my cock, his voice a little roughened now.
Thanking me, now?
If I hadn’t just come, I’d be throbbing at that.
He really is a proud slut.
I vaguely remember I’m still filming and I pull in a deep breath, reaching over to stop the video.
“Glad you did what I told you,” I say, like it’s as basic as talking about the weather.
He licks his lips. “Taking a good dick doesn’t mean I’m your puppet. You’re mine now, though.”
I lean backward, pressing my palm to his bulge before he continues. “The fuck do you mean by that?”
I feel his cock throb like it’s been doing for me all night.
His gaze flickers downward, staring at my chest, then looking up toward my arm, looking over some of the tattoos on my arm.
“You know why. You’re going to be my boyfriend.”
I drag my fingertips over his nipple again, just because it’s there and I like it.
He swats my hand away, but I enjoy seeing him get goosebumps again. I look up at the ceiling a moment later, chewing on the inside of my cheek.
“You’re lucky I needed someone to face-fuck tonight. Do you read my comments? See how many people wish they could have this cock?”
“I see the comments people post on your Camboy site and on your public profile,” he tells me. “The creepy random guys, but also your ex.”
I frown at him. “Exactly how much do you know about my life, Ollie? Sounds like you’re one of my most devoted stalkers.”
“Calm down. Deflate your ego for two fucking seconds, will you?”
“You look cute when you’re pissed off,” I tell him.
“I’m not one of your stalkers. You’re the one who puts your personal shit online. Anyone who follows you could see that you stopped posting pictures with your ex, then started sharing videos about new beginnings and other shit like that.”
“Never knew you’d be following me still. I’m flattered.”
He gives me a death glare. “I’ve also seen enough of the comments your ex has been leaving to know that he’s trying to mess with your head.”
I pull in a slow breath. “That’s putting it lightly.”
Callum could hurt me.
Still might.
Oliver shifts on the bed, giving me a pointed look.
“So do you think this will work? If you publicly come out as being in a relationship, maybe he’ll slow his roll and realize you’re over him?”
“Or maybe it’ll make him and the stalkers jealous, and even crazier.”
He rolls his eyes. “Listen. You want a fresh start. I want to finally have a boyfriend. Win-win.”
“What do you mean finally? I’m sure you could have had a boyfriend anytime you wanted, fuck machine.”
His expression goes cold. “You’d be surprised.”
I frown at him.
“Maybe I don’t want to be your fake boyfriend,” I tease him.
“Then have fun getting kicked out of Crimson College. I’ll send the administration my favorite video of you covered in your own cum.”
Something twists inside me when I hear his plain attempt at blackmail.
He has no idea about how deep those words cut.
Because I cannot go back to where I was before I came to Crimson. Callum’s house was pure mental warfare, and I haven’t even begun to process the trauma from how I was treated.
How I let myself be treated.
My ex’s biggest lie was that he was going to help me toward a career in modeling. Real modeling, not just the artsy photos I toss out onto Instagram. Callum is 29 and he found me when I was 18, promising me all sorts of modeling jobs that never worked out. I moved in with him the moment I finished high school, and I didn’t even consider going to college.
Callum also started slowly pilfering money from me.
I thought he was rich, and he certainly lives the life of a man who has money. But he slowly started complaining that his money was “tied up in investments.”
He’s ask me for a grand here, three grand there.
Over time I ended up giving him almost thirty thousand dollars, and he hasn’t attempted to pay back a dime of it.
“Get me kicked from Crimson, and I really will make your life hell,” I tell him in a serious tone.
“Why do you even want to be at Crimson so badly if you hate us?”
Because every other aspect of my life is a burning mess.
And I’m running away.
“Someone threatened my cousin,” I tell him, giving him a small slice of the truth. “My cousin Sevan is in Double Daggers, and his life is in danger. I need to be here to protect him.”