Chapters (34)
- Title Page
- Table of Contents
- Playlist
- Dedication
- Prologue
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgements
- Also by Q.B. Tyler
- About the Author
“All I had to do was rest a vibrator against your clit or rub it with my fingers and you’d be begging for my cock.” I squeeze my thighs as I try to quiet the low hum between my legs. “Your tiny little body underneath mine as I rocked into your ass, gripping your hips as it sucked every ounce of cum out of me.” My breathing has become erratic and I’m fully aware that I’m sitting in the back of a taxicab on the way to see my soon to be ex-fiancé as the man I’ve loved since I was old enough to know what that word even meant is attempting phone sex with me. “I can picture your back right now, glistening with sweat, your hair matted to your skin after a time I took you particularly rough. Riding you so hard your body would practically collapse.”
I whimper.
“You still with me, baby?”
“Mmmhm.” I let my eyes close and let my head drift back against the headrest as I picture him. Picture us.
“Call me when you’re alone later. I’m not done with you.”
Chapter Thirteen
I arrive at the hospital twenty minutes later, my body wound so tight after my conversation with Jacob and no release. I only brought a small weekender tote packed with the basic necessities so I’m able to move through the hospital quickly. I’m brought to the floor where Parker is and I’m grateful to learn that he’s stable and not in ICU. When I turn the corner, I hear his mother before I’m even to his room and I let out a deep sigh at the thought of her torturing whatever Doctor assigned to his case. I spot Savannah, Parker’s assistant sitting on a bench in front of the door, her laptop perched in her lap typing away. She looks like she hasn’t slept all night and a part of me wonders why she wasn’t in the car with him.
“Whitney,” she says as she looks up at me.
Her dark curly hair is wild and untamed unlike the tight ponytail it’s usually pulled into. She pushes her glasses onto her head and hops up to give me a hug. Her brown eyes fill with tears when she pulls back.
“Thank God you’re here. Mrs. Anderson hates me,” she says, referring to Parker’s mother.