Read Online Unconditionally Single by Mary B. Morrison - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Mary B. Morrison
Ads: Link
test? You cannot be serious. Please don’t tell me I went from being kidnapped to being picked up by a deranged woman.
Bypassing the airport exit, she took the Virginia Avenue ramp and turned left at the light. The city of East Point’s gazebo landmark was to our left. Across the street from the gazebo was a Waffle House. Six blocks down another Waffle House. She pulled into the parking lot of Johnny’s Pizza and Subs, made a U-turn, then said, “You got me all twisted up here. I was headed in the wrong direction.”
“Got that right,” I replied. If my feet, legs, and ass weren’t aching so bad, I would have jump out and walk back to the freeway. This time I’d stop at the northbound entrance. “Fuck it,” I said, tugging on the door handle. I banged the window with my arm.
“Suga’ plum, you gon’ mess around and dislocate your shoulder. I put the safety lock on for your protection. I’ll take it off when we get to where I’m going. Then if you want to get out, you can get out safely.”
Backtracking, we bypassed the gazebo, continued on Virginia Avenue to the opposite side of the freeway. Passed another Waffle House, KFC. She took a left into the cemetery, drove toward the pole that waved an American flag. My mounting frustrations made me want to choke her ass.
She steered off the paved road toward a secluded area. Dirt and rocks crunched under slow-rolling tires. Flowers, vases, and grass were mashed beneath the black rubber treads as she drove on top of graves.
Not many trees around us. That was good. Not many people either. That could be good or bad. People three blocks away placing flowers on graves probably assumed we were doing the same. I had to question why bad things kept happening to me. I saw a housing development in the distance. Again I was too far away for anyone to hear me if I had to call out for help. Not my day. Should’ve prayed in bed instead of getting on my knees. That way Valentino and Benito couldn’t have crept up behind me in my house, tied a bag over my head, bound my wrists and ankles, then stuffed me in the back of their SUV. Amateurs. They’d used Scotch tape, not duct tape. I was out of bondage before they’d stopped the car.
She was an amateur too, but she’d done this shit before.
She was bold. Certifiably insane. Possibly capable of murder. I couldn’t underestimate her next move. She turned off the engine. I was not going to be her victim.
“Now you can make this easy on yourself, darlin’,” she said, unzipping her pants. “I want you to give me some of that good pussy you got right there, then I’ll take you wherever you want to go, sweetheart. Fair exchange is no robbery. I don’t want your money.”
I sat still. Stared at a big dick stacked on top of his balls. This motherfucker got me good. No way in hell did I ever suspect he was impersonating a woman. I was too close to him to shoot the bastard. Needed more space. Needed his van to get back to my house.
He stared back. Reached into his pocket, pulled out a knife, pressed the button. A stainless-steel blade ejected. He twirled the switchblade handle between his fingers with ease. “Don’t wanna mess up that pretty face of yours. You any good at sucking a big dick? With those sexy soft pretty lips, of course you are. Come here, suga’ plum.”
I sat still. Stared at his hair, his lips, his lashes, at him? He was absolutely gorgeous, like he was born in the wrong body. I kept my eyes on the chameleon that appeared helpful minutes ago. Should’ve followed my instincts. Had no idea what was in the back of his van. By the time I’d get to either of my guns, he could stab me. He was too close. We were too close.
This time he yelled, “I don’t want to hurt you! You can make this easy. Give me a blow job. Or I can kill you first, then take that sweet pussy from you before your dead body turns cold. Leave you here where you belong.”
My body was already cold, stiff, but far from being dead.
Bypassing the airport exit, she took the Virginia Avenue ramp and turned left at the light. The city of East Point’s gazebo landmark was to our left. Across the street from the gazebo was a Waffle House. Six blocks down another Waffle House. She pulled into the parking lot of Johnny’s Pizza and Subs, made a U-turn, then said, “You got me all twisted up here. I was headed in the wrong direction.”
“Got that right,” I replied. If my feet, legs, and ass weren’t aching so bad, I would have jump out and walk back to the freeway. This time I’d stop at the northbound entrance. “Fuck it,” I said, tugging on the door handle. I banged the window with my arm.
“Suga’ plum, you gon’ mess around and dislocate your shoulder. I put the safety lock on for your protection. I’ll take it off when we get to where I’m going. Then if you want to get out, you can get out safely.”
Backtracking, we bypassed the gazebo, continued on Virginia Avenue to the opposite side of the freeway. Passed another Waffle House, KFC. She took a left into the cemetery, drove toward the pole that waved an American flag. My mounting frustrations made me want to choke her ass.
She steered off the paved road toward a secluded area. Dirt and rocks crunched under slow-rolling tires. Flowers, vases, and grass were mashed beneath the black rubber treads as she drove on top of graves.
Not many trees around us. That was good. Not many people either. That could be good or bad. People three blocks away placing flowers on graves probably assumed we were doing the same. I had to question why bad things kept happening to me. I saw a housing development in the distance. Again I was too far away for anyone to hear me if I had to call out for help. Not my day. Should’ve prayed in bed instead of getting on my knees. That way Valentino and Benito couldn’t have crept up behind me in my house, tied a bag over my head, bound my wrists and ankles, then stuffed me in the back of their SUV. Amateurs. They’d used Scotch tape, not duct tape. I was out of bondage before they’d stopped the car.
She was an amateur too, but she’d done this shit before.
She was bold. Certifiably insane. Possibly capable of murder. I couldn’t underestimate her next move. She turned off the engine. I was not going to be her victim.
“Now you can make this easy on yourself, darlin’,” she said, unzipping her pants. “I want you to give me some of that good pussy you got right there, then I’ll take you wherever you want to go, sweetheart. Fair exchange is no robbery. I don’t want your money.”
I sat still. Stared at a big dick stacked on top of his balls. This motherfucker got me good. No way in hell did I ever suspect he was impersonating a woman. I was too close to him to shoot the bastard. Needed more space. Needed his van to get back to my house.
He stared back. Reached into his pocket, pulled out a knife, pressed the button. A stainless-steel blade ejected. He twirled the switchblade handle between his fingers with ease. “Don’t wanna mess up that pretty face of yours. You any good at sucking a big dick? With those sexy soft pretty lips, of course you are. Come here, suga’ plum.”
I sat still. Stared at his hair, his lips, his lashes, at him? He was absolutely gorgeous, like he was born in the wrong body. I kept my eyes on the chameleon that appeared helpful minutes ago. Should’ve followed my instincts. Had no idea what was in the back of his van. By the time I’d get to either of my guns, he could stab me. He was too close. We were too close.
This time he yelled, “I don’t want to hurt you! You can make this easy. Give me a blow job. Or I can kill you first, then take that sweet pussy from you before your dead body turns cold. Leave you here where you belong.”
My body was already cold, stiff, but far from being dead.
Similar Books
