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It flowed through every part of me. Relief and acceptance of every fucked-up thing sixty days could bring and more.
My plastic fake life here on campus was worth nothing. My shallow bonds with these people were worth nothing.
Saving my fate here was also worth nothing.
And neither was pretending a minute longer.
For the first time in my whole life I slipped my fingers between my legs and didn’t hate myself for my own wetness. For the first time in forever I let my fantasies run wild and didn’t feel the need to wash my mind with bleach at the same time.
I wanted him.
I wanted him to hurt me.
I wanted him to push me past every limit I could possibly imagine and leave me a smiling wreck at the end with a crazy bank balance and a sister who’d carry on living.
I wanted it all, and I wanted it now.
Sixty days couldn’t come soon enough.Chapter SixteenBrandonI’d always been a night owl. There was something about the quiet time of the early hours that allowed my thoughts to stretch and unfurl. The back porch was sweeping in its countryside opulence, all for me. The world slipped by, the sky black and starry, untouched by city streetlight pollution. It was undeniably beautiful here in its sobriety. The stillness ate my breaths and soaked up the exhale of my cigarette smoke.
And yet elsewhere the seedy cogs of the underworld kept on turning.
Lance should have been more than enough of a resource when it came to digging up the dirt on my latest prospect. The guy was used to honing in on our potential toys, scraping out the very depths of their girly closets for juicy gems of insight. He was more than adequately skilled at presenting me with a wealth of information I could use for my benefit. Secrets, weaknesses, flaws and desires. Past mistakes. Errors of previous judgements begging to be triggered to life. So, quite why I’d chosen to contact deeper-reaching acquaintances on my list was still a mystery to me. I had them at my fingertips the world over – corrupt data professionals positioned in every telecoms agency worth shit, as well as hackers capable of infiltrating every local agency and data centre I could wish them to.
On this occasion, I did wish them to.
I’d already paid handsomely for the soon-coming insight on sweet little Paige and her nebulous sister. I was waiting avidly for the extracted files from her mobile phone and social media profiles, as well as the full rundown on her university records. This level of snooping was above and beyond what was needed on top of Lance’s efforts and I was well aware of it. There was no reason to be hunting down such intel on a girl who’d be nothing to me once her sixty days were served. I’d be long gone, contracts signed, sealed and delivered, never to see the girl again.
Yet I was on edge. Strangely excited. Curiosity piqued.
Since I had no justification for this heightened interest, I told nobody about my extra vigilance. Not Eric, not Lance, and certainly not any of our other shadowy associates. Besides my obvious struggle to explain my motives, it was quite simply none of their fucking business.
I was about to head back inside when my phone buzzed in my pocket. For a ridiculous moment I hoped it was her, Paige, pinging through on the profile she’d reached out through before. I’d kicked my foolish enthusiasm into check before pulling up the notification, and just as well, because the message that greeted me was a world away from the gem of filthy innocence I’d enjoyed on the beach.
The girl whose picture popped up was hidden under at least an inch thick of makeup. Her duck pout was slavered with bright pink gloss, her hair tousled and bleach burnt, cascading down over her bared cleavage in a way that left nothing to the imagination.
I’m a girl who knows what a man wants. I’m worth every penny you’ll spend and more, trust me. I can swallow dick right the way down, and my ass likes it rough. I can do everything Rebecca did and more.
I rued the day I’d taken on that little Lane bitch and her big mouth.
Calling up Rebecca Lane’s mobile number was a pleasure long overdue. My tolerance for her big mouth was well past its limits, and the threats were bristling loud in my throat before I pressed to connect the call, caring nothing for the antisocial hours or the fact I was reaching out on a regular phone number without encryption.
The girl would have to be crazy to push her luck any further. She’d have to be crazier still to come back with threats of her own.
The line rang three times before the tone dropped dead. No ringing out, no transfer to voicemail. Nothing but the definite call cancelled tone that comes with someone swiping no on the accept screen.
