The Ghost Boy Who Bends Me Over

The Ghost Boy Who Bends Me Over

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WpMetadataReadPer adultiIn corso3h 57m
WpMetadataNoticeUltima pubblicazione mer, mar 2, 2022
Sarah's been intrigued by paranormal activity her whole life. Now she was about to live it. "It's yours, huh? I don't think that's what I wanted you to say," He abruptly lets go of my hair and brings his hand up much higher before bringing it down and roughly rubbing my ass so that it'd jiggle in his open palm, causing me to struggle against his death grip to my own grave disappointment. "So right now, you're gonna repeat it. But this time, I want you to tell me that you're mine. You can do that, yeah?" (Cover for the time being sucks. Will make a better one when I've got time.) (this is not a deserted book. please don't let the low number of chapters scare you away)
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18 + my book has matured content "FUCK YOU! Fuck you, Ace!" I sobbed, the words coming out as a broken mess. I lunged for the handle and flung the door open, desperate for air-desperate for anyone who didn't look at me with that much cruelty. My eyes instantly collided with Carter's. His baby blue eyes were no longer nervous; they were blazing with a protective rage. He stood nearly as tall as Ace, his own ink-covered arms shaking with a fury that matched the man behind me. Beside him, Nichole was shaking, too, her face a mask of pure terror as she saw the state of me. Their expressions shifted in a heartbeat, their gazes darting behind me. I didn't even have time to see the shadow. A massive, calloused hand clamped onto my waist, hauling me backward off my feet with a violent jerk. Ace didn't even acknowledge the two of them; he just ignored their presence entirely and slammed the heavy steel door shut, the bolt sliding home with a finality that felt like a death sentence. "STOP TRYING TO LEAVE!" Ace screamed, his fingers digging into my arm as he hauled me farther into the dark belly of the locker room. I ripped myself from his grasp with a desperate surge of strength, stumbling back. My chest was heaving, my lungs burning as if the room had run out of oxygen. "Maybe I am trying to find someone to prostitute myself out to! Maybe Cox wants to buy me for a night! He needs someone to cheer him up after his fucking loss!" I lunged at him, shoving his chest with both hands, over and over. He didn't even flinch. It was like trying to push back a mountain of stone and ink. I felt like I was being choked, my breath coming in jagged, shallow hitches while my makeup smeared down my face, mixing with the hot tracks of my tears. I didn't know if I was crying because I was outraged or because I was completely devastated; I just knew I wanted to hurt him. I wanted him to feel just an inch of the jagged glass cutting through me right now. (Cover is AI it's fake.)

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