Chapter 17. Her Own Toy

I opened my eyes with a sharp gasp, heart thudding like I’d been ripped from drowning.

For a moment, I forgot where I was.

Yeah, the motel…

I looked around the room. I was alone, with only a tray of delicious food, still steaming hot, on the table.

I didn’t know whether to be annoyed or impressed. He did his job—maybe too well.

I rolled onto my side slowly, my limbs sore, cunt lips still tingling from the action.

I closed my eyes again just for a second, but the images came rushing back.

His mouth. His hands.

The way he looked at me and called my name before eating me out like some thirsty bloodsucking parasite.

Parasites are even better—it was almost like he made love to me.

I hated it.

I hated that I had to be made to feel something new about my body because someone stubborn treated it differently.

I didn’t want tenderness. I didn’t need slow hands and soft gazes.

I needed it rough and brutal.

I wanted to