Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79261 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79261 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
She reached for my belt, but I caught her wrists, pushing her back. “Ain’t gonna happen.”
She scoffed out, rolling her eyes, and pushed away from me to stand on the opposite side of my desk.
Suddenly feeling pissed, I snapped, “Why can’t you understand about what I just said to you? Why is it so hard for you to have a man respect you for more than what’s between your legs? You throwin’ it at me isn’t goin’ to make me fuck you. If I want pussy, all I have to do is walk outside that door. Ya feel me?”
“Yeah, Luke… I feel ya. I feel everything about you. Including how hard your dick feels against me right before you stop us from having sex. I feel the way you look at me sometimes when you think I can’t see you. I feel the way you smile when I’m around. I feel the way you’re an asshole to everyone else, but to me, you’re sweet and patient and calm! I feel the way you worry about me and make sure I’m tucked in bed every night. I feel the way you need me to comfort you, support you, be with you… I feel everything! Is that enough fucking feels for you?!”
“That’s great.” I nodded. “’Cause I can’t feel one fuckin’ thing about you since you won’t at least tell me your goddamn name!”
She shook her head, disappointed with my response.
It was the truth. Every last word that fell from her lips was the truth, and I wasn’t going to argue with her about it.
“Alright…” she bit with her hands out at her sides. “I think about you all the time. I wait for you to call me to tell me you need me. To tell me you miss me. To tell me all the shit that comes out of your mouth when you’re lonely!”
I was in her face before she had the last word out. “Do I look like I want to be yelled at, darlin’?”
She angled her head higher in defiance. “Do I look like I give a shit?”
“Don’t fuck with me, Duchess…”
“Why not? It’s the only fucking I can do.” She abruptly turned and left, slamming my office door behind her without another word, and I let her.
“Fuck!” I yelled, pulling my hair in a frustrated gesture. Wanting to rip it the hell out.
I didn’t know what to do when it came to her.
What to say.
How to handle her.
I needed to figure out how to make it better without making it worse at the same time. I paced around my office like I would suddenly find the answers written on my walls or some shit.
I was at a loss.
I poured a glass of bourbon and chugged it down in one long swig, throwing it back as if it was water, needing something to calm me the fuck down. I slammed the empty glass onto the counter when I was done. I was about to go after her, but fate had other plans for me that night, and I didn’t expect any of it.
Out of nowhere, a faint shadow caught my attention from the corner of my eyes, reflecting on the wall behind me.
The rest played out in slow fucking motion.
I dropped to the ground, covering my head with my arms, and ducked behind my desk. I flipped it to the side—it was made of steel. Using it as a shield for as long as I could, I went in for cover as bullets sprayed throughout my office, destroying everything in its wake.
For what felt like forever, the only thing that could be heard were bullets flying in every direction through the drywall, shattering windows and causing shards of glass to fall on top of me. Within seconds, I pulled out my gun from the back of my slacks, standing without a second thought. I returned fire in the direction of the shooter, but it was hard to tell where it was coming from.
I did the best I could until the motherfucker fell to the ground dead, and I was able to run over to my safe. I grabbed another gun, throwing the extra clips in the pockets of my slacks. Thank God the private party was a bunch of corrupt sons of bitches who were ready to kill at a moment’s notice. When I hauled ass out my door to go find Duchess, the men were already retaliating.
My club was under fire, getting decorated with bullet holes in every corner of the 3500-square-foot space. An all-out war had broken out, and I didn’t have a clue who was behind this—simply fueling the flames inside me. Women were screaming bloody murder, running from rooms half naked, trying to seek cover as best as they could while others weren’t so lucky.
“Duchess!” I shouted, stepping over bodies, searching for her and feeling desperate that I hadn’t found her yet.