Spent (Wrecked #2) Read Online Free Page B

Fear might have been late to the game, but once it set in, Bailey couldn’t breathe from its choking hold. Sol appeared even less human than before. His fingers stroked her ribs. The walls shook harder.
    “Mine.” The single word filled the air, sounding demonic, and nearly piercing Bailey’s eardrums. Her insides shook. A small smile touched Sol’s lips. Bailey’s lungs seized. The harder she fought to breathe, the darker the room became. A crack formed in the ceiling. “You are mine.”
    The world snapped into focus. Everything shifted back to normal. Once again, Bailey was alone. The binds were gone from her wrists with no evidence of having ever existed. Her familiar ceiling hovered above her head, free of any cracks. The clothing she’d donned that morning still covered her body. Bailey shook her head, attempting to get her bearings.
    God, she hated it here. It seemed no matter how hard she tried or how long she'd been in this place, she still couldn't tell what was real and what was imagined. The walls no longer pulsed around her, if they ever had. Turning on her side, Bailey stared at the blank white wooden surface that had been shaking only moments earlier, and replayed the entire scene in her head. Her body still burned with the last embers of her explosive orgasm. Her face heated at the memory of her wanton behavior. Pressing her thighs tighter together, she tried beating back the phantom sensation of soft hair tickling her inner thighs and the heat of the other woman's mouth covering her pussy.
    Sometimes, Bailey wondered what type of person she truly was on the inside where no one could see. Sol said she didn't belong here. What had he meant? Flopping onto her back, Bailey growled at the empty room. It was possible he didn't exist, and they hadn't met. Therefore, he never said those words at all. If he had, then there was no way he truly knew about the dirty sex fiend living inside her or he never would've claimed she shouldn't be here. Perhaps he'd meant she should've ended up someplace worse. Was there a pervert purgatory? This was all Lucien's fault. She didn't know how, but it was.

“My brain tells me he’s an evil man. The pressure in my chest says something different. When he looks at me, my body doesn’t care about the truth or reason. It only wants his touch.”
    —Bailey’s Journal, B.D.
    Chapter 3
    Then…
    Things seemed brighter than they had a day earlier. No dreams had marred her sleep and when she awoke, Bailey experienced a full five minutes of relief from her thoughts. When they hit, instead of the usual dark memories swallowing her, mortification owned her. Even as Bailey’s face burned as she relived the night before, a smile stretched her lips and made her cheeks ache. She’d needed that moment out of time, escaping herself.
    Derringer winked as she came through the door. She’d seen more than one woman fall over her feet to get to the sexy, dark-haired, and green-eyed tattoo artist who worked the day shift. Unfortunately for all the women of the world, he was most decidedly gay. For Bailey, it had been a blessing. Around him, she was free. It didn’t hurt that his perfect ass and sweet smile were a joy to look at.
    “Wow. They got the mess from last night’s drive-by cleaned up fast. Usually, it takes the people in this neighborhood weeks to fix a broken window.”
    A line appeared between Derringer’s brows even as he leaned in, giving her a one-armed bear hug. “There was a drive-by last night? Huh. I hadn’t heard, but I don’t doubt it. There’s always some shit going down here.” His smile kicked up a notch. “Of course, that just makes this the perfect area for people to stumble into, high as hell, and ready for their next ink.”
    “Shhh,” Bailey said, swatting him away. “That kind of talk will get us shut down.” She cut her eyes at him and winked. “Even if it is true.” They both roared with laughter. Derringer was the first to catch his breath.