Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
“I’m sorry,” I sob, salty wet tears sliding down my cheeks to flavor our hungry kisses. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry—”
“All right, that’s enough.”
The officer finally grabs hold of Flynt’s shoulders, yanking him as hard as possible away from me. I slide down the wall and hide myself with my clothing, watching in horror as he arrests Flynt. Several more men are required to come forward and help wrestle him into cliffs when he struggles, teeth bared, eyes wild. “Ayla,” he shouts. “Ayla!”
“Jesus, son,” the officer says, gaping at Flynt’s erection. “Look at that thing. No wonder she couldn’t wait until after class.”
I lunge onto my knees and carefully zip Flynt back into his jeans. I reach for his face, but I never make contact. He’s already being dragged out of the room, the whole scene blurring around me behind the veil of confusion and denial and tears.
“Flynt!”
“Ayla!” Six men are dragging him out the door, but he twists around to look at me one final time. “This isn’t over. We are—”
Someone fires a taser and Flynt jerks, his face contorting with pain.
I scream loud enough to heart my own eardrums.
It’s the last thing I remember before losing consciousness.
eight
Flynt
I thought I was a beast before, but compared to who I am now?
I was docile.
The separation from Ayla has driven me mad.
It has been a month and I’ve already inked her name onto my body so many times, the letters have blurred together in an illegible maze of loops and slashes. I’ve needed pain on the outside to distract from the utter misery shredding my insides to ribbons. The guards hate me and I can’t afford a lawyer, so I get no phone calls. I get nothing but darkness. They won’t even give me a pen or pencil to write letters to my Ayla because they’re worried that I’ll stab them. Myself. Others. And I probably would.
I’m starting to hear voices. I want to rip the skin off my bones.
I’m going to die without her. I have no idea how long I’m going to be in here.
But knowing Ayla is on the other side of these bars, unprotected and pregnant, is the worst form of torture imaginable. I damaged my vocal cords on day one by shouting her name. I speak in a permanent rasp now. They allow me into the yard for an hour a day and I hit the weights like a man possessed, pumping iron until my arms and legs have been exhausted. That exertion is the only thing stopped me from going completely insane.
I have to get out of here.
I have to get back to her.
Would I steal those car parts all over again to give her back the gift of her mother’s car? Yes. I would just be more careful. If I’d taken more precautions, I might be inside of her right now at the lake. She’d be milking me with that tight, sexy pussy, titties wet from my mouth. I can’t even fathom how good she’d taste between her legs while carrying my baby. I’d kill for a sample of it right now. One lick and I’d come on the dirty floor of my cell.
Why didn’t I tell her I love her sooner?
I was in the middle of declaring my love, my intention to marry her and raise our baby together as soon as I got released, but they tased me. They tased me and she passed out and I’ve been in hell even since. Pure fucking hell.
I lunge to my feet and wrap my hands around the bars, pressing my face between the metal slats until it hurts. “AYLA.”
Ayla
My father found the pregnancy test in the trash can three weeks ago.
Ever since then, my home has become a prison.
I won’t allow my daughter to humiliate me by walking around school with a swollen stomach. My daughter, a teen mother? God almighty. No one is going to find out. What would they think of me? Your mother would be humiliated. I can either send you to live with my brother in Montana or, by God, you’ll stay in this house until you’ve delivered the bastard and put it up for adoption. Your choice.
He wouldn’t listen when I told him I wanted to raise the baby.
I could never give this life I created with Flynt to a stranger. I just couldn’t.
I want to bring up this baby, even if I have to do it by myself.
It’s likely that I will have to do it alone. My memory of the afternoon Flynt was arrested has started to take different shapes. My grief and panic over being without Flynt is clouding everything. But I remember his anger and irritation. I remember him shouting this isn’t over. That’s the last thing he said to me. And now I’m starting to wonder if he was referring to our argument not being over, as opposed to our relationship.