Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 136731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
The guy is no one to me. But from the moment I met the man, he’s been nothing but respectful to a guy who doesn’t deserve respect. He doesn’t come across as a bad guy.
Casper knows he’s lost the fight and moves to exit the small room. My eyes follow him as he leaves, his chin dipped, eyes hard. Without Quaid on my side, I feel a steady hum in the room around me. My defenses rise. The animal inside of me is begging for a fight.
It’s been too long.
The door closes with a soft click, and the chief takes a seat, leaving the other two pricks standing. “Mr. Falco,” he begins. “May I call you Antonio?”
I fucking hate that name. My jaw tics. “It’s Twitch.”
The chief smiles politely. “Twitch, then.” He pauses a moment. “You want to tell me why you’re here?”
I can’t help myself. I grin and mutter, “You want to suck my dick, old man?” His face turns severe, and I chuckle. “Then maybe you should stop with the niceties and get Quaid back in here.” I glance up at the two fuckers standing guard behind the old man. They glare down at me, and I blow a kiss to one then wink at the other. “Never did well with authority, chief.”
The chief sits taller. “That’s not necessary. Quaid is—”
I cut him off. “Yeah, he fucked up. I know. I get why you don’t want him in here. There’s only one problem with that, pops.” I lean back in my chair, slouching a little. “I’m not saying a single fucking word without my boy Quaid.” I’m getting bored. Lifting my hands, I shake my wrists, the handcuffs jingling musically. “And get these goddamn cuffs off me, yo. Where the fuck am I going to run to in here?”
I made my play. Now we wait.
My stare heavies on the chief.
I’m not afraid of you.
The chief eyes me curiously. “Mr. Falco,” he starts. “Twitch.” He pauses a moment, before asking a calm yet firm, “Why are you here?”
I hope curiosity will get the better of him. “I’m just a man wanting his life back.”
He blinks at me. “I’m sorry. I don’t quite understand.”
My response is to simply lift my arms to chest height and gently shake my chains.
I’m not talking, bitch.
The chief sighs. “You’re asking a lot of me. And you’ve yet to give me anything that makes me think our connection will be of mutual benefit.”
But I glance up at the sergeant, looking over his body suggestively. “I bet you like being bent over and spanked, huh, big boy?” The sergeant’s face turns purple and my eyes smile. “Make your wife cuff you then play with your asshole? That how you get off? Does she know you crave cock? Trust me, most women don’t mind. They love to watch.”
“Twitch, what are you doing?” The chief’s getting nervous now. He should be.
The sergeant impresses me. Although his jaw tenses and his face turns an unusual shade of red, he breathes deeply and centers himself. He looks as though he wants to lay into me, but he just watches me. Fair enough.
He’s not going to help me prove my point.
I turn to the other guy—Detective Deep-throat—and eye his crotch. “What about you, sunshine? I bet you were a wrestler in high school. Convinced yourself that all the hard-ons you got while rubbing against another man’s ass was a result of the fight. But they weren’t, were they?”
“Mr. Falco,” the chief barks in warning.
The detective is close to cracking. I need to up my game. My gaze lingers on his mouth. “It was the struggle you enjoyed. Two big men fighting for dominance, waiting for one to fall to his knees…” The dude shifts on his feet, and I breathe out an amused, “You getting turned on by this, faggot?”
He lunges at me and time slows to a crawl. My eyes shut in the unique pleasure of the fight, and I smile as he all but jumps over the rickety table to get to me. My chair is thrown backward, and it takes what seems like hours for my back to hit the floor. Anticipation has my heart racing and, fuck, I wish I could participate in this dance. Pain explodes at the apple of my left cheek, and although it throbs for a moment, soon, my face numbs.
All it takes is a few well-timed seconds.
The sergeant and chief pull him off me, and the detective is escorted from the room, glowering at me and uttering, “I’ll kill you, cock sucker.”
With my hands behind my back, the chief grips my upper arms, pulling me up and sitting me back down in the feeble chair as I tell the detective, “I’m already dead, pretty boy. Do your worst.”
My chest heaves and my heart races from adrenaline. I work at steadying my breathing, when the chief asks a baffled, “Why?” He doesn’t know what to make of me. I’m about to lay it down.