Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 30636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 153(@200wpm)___ 123(@250wpm)___ 102(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 153(@200wpm)___ 123(@250wpm)___ 102(@300wpm)
Walking around my car, I take in the damage. Fuck! There is a good-sized dent in my back bumper, and the paint is chipped off. Another surge of anger runs through my veins.
I turn and look at the rust bucket that hit me. The front bumper is practically about to fall off.
Raising my head, I look through the windshield at the driver. At first, all I see is brown hair, but when I get closer, I can make out that a woman is definitely behind the wheel.
Great. I hate killing women. No fun in that.
Her head is down, her long hair covering her face, and when I stop right next to the window, I can see her hands in her lap. Her thin fingers hold the hem of her sweater so tightly her knuckles are white. I notice her shoulders are shaking like she is crying.
Fuck, this is getting worse by the second. I don’t want to deal with a crying chick. I’m moments away from spinning around and walking my ass back to my car, but I decide if I can’t kill her, I can at least scare her a bit. That might be fun.
Raising my hand, I knock my knuckles against her window and wait. She doesn’t look up or move to open the door. She could at least roll down the damn window.
My anger is reaching a boiling point. No one ignores me. I knock again, this time hard enough to hurt my knuckles, but she still doesn’t move.
Shaking my head, I reach for the door handle and pull. To my surprise, it’s unlocked, and the door swings open.
“Hey, lady!” I try to get her attention. “Did you not see the red light?”
No reaction.
“Are you deaf or just ignoring me?” I yell at her, barely containing my fury.
“I’m sorry,” she sobs, shaking her head. “I’m really sorry.” Her voice is trembling.
Then it occurs to me that she might be hurt. She is probably half my size, and her car is old and rusty. The crash must have shaken her up more than me.
Opening the door wider, I crouch next to her.
“Hey, can you at least look at me?” I ask, keeping my voice even, but my lingering annoyance and anger bleed through anyway.
She finally nods. Keeping her head bowed, she turns her head slightly. Lifting her hand, she tucks her hair behind her ear, letting her face come into view.
Her large baby blue eyes find mine and go even wider as she takes me in. Yeah, I get it. I look like a scary motherfucker. It’s by design.
The sadness and profound guilt I see in them has my anger slowly dissipating. Not only that, but also she looks young, much younger than I expected. She is basically a kid, around sixteen or seventeen.
“I’m so sorry,” she apologies again, her body shaking.
“It’s okay,” I say without thinking. It’s really not okay, but right now, it doesn’t matter. Yelling at this scared teenage girl is not going to be satisfying since she is already scared shitless.
Cars whiz by us in the other lane, one of them honking their horn. Asshole.
“Did you turn on your hazard lights?”
“Ah… no.” She looks over the buttons on her dashboard but doesn’t know which one to press.
Leaning over, I reach across and press it for her. As I do, her sweet floral scent evades my scenes. Mmm, she smells good, so sweet, and I can almost taste her innocence. I haven’t fucked a virgin in a long time, and she looks most assuredly like one. My dick twitches against my zipper, and there is a low rumble in my chest at the thought.
Looking at her pretty face, I notice a small red bump on her forehead and wonder if she hit her head. She is wearing glasses, which are slightly fogged up from crying and one of the lenses has a crack running across.
“You broke your glasses,” I point out as I settle back into a crouch next to her.
“Oh.” She takes them off and inspects the lens. Her frown deepens, and more tears run down her cheeks. “I hit my head on the steering wheel. It must have happened then.”
Nodding, I watch her for a few more seconds, trying to figure out what the fuck to do. She is pretty enough, and vulnerable. I can’t have her work at the club if she is underage, but I could definitely fuck her. But that may be more trouble than it’s worth, depending on her situation.
“I’m guessing you don’t have insurance?”
Lowering her head again, she shakes it slightly.
Trying to get money from her is going to be a nightmare. Obviously, she has none, and it’s not like I’m hurting for cash. The best thing to do is just walk away. I should just leave her here. She is not my problem.