The Token 8: Kiki: A Billionaire Dark Romantic Suspense Read Online Free

coy.”
    She snorts. “Stop making a tally of what you think is wrong with you. You're Kiki! You’re the sole reason I have Mick.”
    “Not all.”
    “A lot. Now listen, you can cheerlead with the best of them. Why are you letting this get to you? My mom would say ʻconsider the source.ʼ”
    “Oh yeah? Well that source is a rich, blond, perfect model. That's who belongs with Chet. That's who he was with, Faren.”
    “He might be with you if you'd text him back.”
    “Chet's not the right dude for me,” I say.
    “Mick thinks he is.”
    News to me. “I thought you were the one trying to set us up? When your water broke and Chet took me home… god, it was ten degrees of awkward. It was like the silence had words. I'll never forget it.”
    Or the way his large hands had commanded the car as we left Mick's mansion in Redmond. He took every highway twenty miles over the speed limit to get downtown.
    It was dark when he took me home, but I still should have recognized his car today in the lot. I wasn't looking for it, unguarded.
    “It's called chemistry, Kik.”
    “A penis is a penis is a penis.”
    “Ah-huh.” Faren clucks.
    I huff. “Listen, he has blondie. He can do her anytime. He doesn't need a former exotic dancer who doesn't match him or his life. I'm like what doesn't belong or something.”
    “Not true. Mick says Chet's never been rejected by anyone.”
    I lift my palm in defeat. “Of course! He's Moneybags Sinclair. He can have any chick with a pulse and a pussy.”
    “God, Kiki...”
    “It's true.” I cross my arms, my shoulder hiked against the phone.
    “You've made my point—Chet could have anyone. So he must want you. Think it through.”
    I sit there for half a minute. My shoulders drop, and I catch the phone before it falls. I grip it tightly. “So why does he want me?”
    “Exactly,” she returns like a volley. “He doesn't want- want , Chloe. She's just… she's just easy.”
    I smirk. I bet she is.
    “The next time he texts—answer. Give it a try. Promise me.”
    “Why am I listening to you?” I ask, but I'm smiling.
    Her answer steals my grin.
    “Because I listened to you.”

FOUR
    Chet
     
    “Chet!” Chloe squeals like a pig. It could be because the side of her face is being flat-palmed against the leather seat.
    “You know what I need. I've been utterly clear. Now spread your legs and give me what I need.”
    “Not like this! I'm better than this. Not in the backseat.”
    So much better in the backseat. “Oh yes in the backseat. Your bad behavior toward my friends will not be abided. You deserve the punishment I feel honor-bound to mete out.”
    I stuff a finger in her pussy and find it wet and ready.
    As usual, the ill-treatment is exactly what Chloe needs. Her dark, shameful secret is a need for degradation.
    Chloe might be a rich, spoiled young woman, but she seeks the exact abuse I like to dish out.
    I throw her long dress over her head and jerk her hips toward my bobbing prick.
    She grunts a moan of “no!” that’s so unconvincing it makes me chuckle. I tear off the top of the condom package with my teeth and roll it on one-handed.
    All pretense of her resistance melts away when I stuff my cock inside her, like a deep strike from a sword.
    “Ah!” she screams.
    “You're a foul-mouthed whore.”
    The suffocating silence is punctuated only by her labored breathing. I lift my hand from the side of her head slightly so she can breathe—though her passing out would be very interesting. A nice twist to the debauchery of the event.
    I jerk out of her and ruthlessly slam into the deep wetness of her cunt. She groans in guilty relief and pleasure, spreading herself wider as I stab her from behind a third time.
    I lift my palm completely, and she tries to turn her face to see me. I like the distancing technique of the dress over her face. I'm fiercely pleased.
    “Chet,” she moans. It's a half-pout, half-groan of pleasure.
    “Shut up, slut.” I grab her hips and jerk