Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 154595 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 773(@200wpm)___ 618(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154595 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 773(@200wpm)___ 618(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
Ouch. That was going to bruise.
“Did she just call you Frog-face?” bad guy number two asked, giggling like an idiot.
What was so funny about that?
“You got a problem with that, Fishy-breath?” she snapped.
“I do not have fishy breath!”
“Yeah, you kind of do, Evan,” the guy behind her said.
“Fuck off, Mike! Your feet smell like you washed them in a garbage can.”
“Ouch. Burn,” she said.
“What?” Frog-face asked.
“I said, burn. It was used in the right context because Fishy-breath said that Garbage-feet has bad-smelling feet. Although to be fair, Fishy-breath, I think that your breath also smells like you ate some garbage. Now, as fun as it is chatting about your various issues with your bodies, this alley is dirty and damp, and I don’t want to mess up my beautiful velvet shoes.”
She tried to look down at her purple velvet shoes but couldn’t see them in the poor light.
Shoot. They better be all right. They matched her purple velvet coat perfectly.
“What?” Fishy-breath asked. And whoa, either there was something dead in this alley or he really needed a breath mint. “Why’re you talking about fucking velvet shoes? Who gives a fuck?”
“I do. Do you know how hard it is to get purple velvet shoes to match your purple velvet coat? I’ll give you a clue. Very hard. Although, from what I can see, none of you are exactly high-fashion.” She was done trying to be nice.
“I don’t give a fuck what you’re wearing, you fucking slut,” Frog-face snarled. “All that interests me is the fucking pussy you’ve got under your dress. And how quickly I can pound that thing.”
“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” she asked, aghast.
“What? Why the fuck would I want to kiss my mother? She’s my mother! That’s disgusting.”
“Not that sort of kiss. I meant a peck on the cheek or something. Because I’m sure she wouldn’t approve of the way you speak to women.”
“My mother doesn’t give a fuck what I do,” Frog-face told her. “And she speaks worse than I do, bitch. Evan, hold her while I get my dick out,” Frog-face said. “Mike, keep watch at the end of the alley.”
“With pleasure.” Fishy-breath grabbed her and held her tight with one arm around her waist. His dick was pressed against her ass.
And eww . . . yep, he was turned on.
This was not happening. It couldn’t be happening.
Deep breaths. You can freak out after you get away from these guys.
Fishy-breath started pawing at her breast while he thrust his hips against her ass.
Do not vomit. Do not vomit.
Fuck.
“Let go of me, Fishy-breath! You can’t do this!”
“Oh, we’re doing this!” Frog-face told her, yanking his pants down. She couldn’t see his cock. Probably a good thing. Who knew where that thing had been or what it had done.
Eww. Eww. Eww.
Leaning over, she gave in and vomited all over Frog-face, who had his dick hanging out. He screeched, jumping back and falling on his ass.
“What the fuck? What the fuck?” he yelled.
She heard footsteps running toward them.
“What is it? What happened?” Garbage-feet demanded, rushing back into the alley.
“She vomited on my dick. There’s fucking vomit on my dick!” Frog-face yelled.
If he expected sympathy, then he was out of luck. Garbage-feet leaned over and started howling with laughter.
She was beginning to suspect these guys weren’t hardened criminals. Not that it made them less dangerous. But they were stupid. As Garbage-feet laughed and Frog-face sat, crying over his vomit-covered cock, she brought up her foot and drove it down on Fishy-breath’s foot. Honestly, fishy didn’t even come close to describing his breath. It smelled like a rat had died in his mouth.
No wonder she’d vomited.
Well, that, and she was freaking terrified.
Fishy-breath screamed in pain. She slammed her elbow into his gut. Unfortunately, he still had a hold of her. She threw her head back and heard his nose crunch.
Oh, that was just nasty.
But he let her go and she stumbled forward. Garbage-feet reached for her, and she drew her leg back, hoping she could kick him in the nuts. Instead, she ended up kicking him in the shins and it was her turn to scream.
Open-toed shoes were not good for kicking people. Noted.
Ouch! Shit!
Garbage-feet grabbed her, slamming her against the wall. “Fucking shut up, bitch! What you trying to do? Wake up the whole fucking neighborhood?”
Wasn’t that the point? That’s what she wanted!
Why didn’t she think of that before?
She let out a scream that hurt her throat. A sweaty, rough hand was pressed over her mouth, suffocating the sound almost immediately.
Instinct had her biting down on his hand. Yuck! That was disgusting. Garbage-feet screamed. He backhanded her so hard that her face swung to the side, making her neck ping in pain. Tears filled her eyes.
And there was a strange thumping noise. Wait, no, that wasn’t her head . . .