Stolen Dove: Stolen Hearts Series by Blake, Carina (ebook reader 7 inch txt) 📕

me to keep the bile down. There are a couple of guys that are better looking than others, but mostly it’s a bunch of ugly, overweight men who probably have wives and kids. I can’t imagine them over me sweating and grunting, touching my body. They’re going to need a bunch of lube to get me wet enough and a lot of alcohol, which I plan to have.

I shudder in revulsion and fear. What am I doing here?

I need to get away from my father and out of this place. I search the room for the exits as my fight-or-flight has kicked in. The chances of me getting away depend on if I can get away from my father. Sensing my change of heart or just not trusting me, he intensifies the already firm grip on my arm that I doubt he’s going to loosen until I’m sold.

I’m trying to keep my head down so that I don’t attract any attention, but my father isn’t having any of that either. He grabs my chin hard, forcefully turning my head to him and whispers, “Keep your head up. No one can see your fucking face. Remember, it’s your head that’s on a platter as well as mine. Now, smile like a good hooker.”

That’s the only reason I’m here, I remind myself. I don’t give a crap if they put a bullet in his head or whatever it is these people do. It’s my life I want to preserve. After this is over, I plan to run and start a life of my own somewhere else far from these evil fuckers. Then his next bailout will have to come from someone else, or he’ll be food for worms.

Fighting back the tears, I decide right there that I’m going to carry myself with dignity. After all, it’s just sex, and I’m betting probably very short sex. I straighten my back, stiffen my shoulders, and hold my head up high. I’m going to meet my fate like a warrior.

With lips plump and determination on my face, I scan the room, hoping for a good-looking pervert. That’s when I spot the one man in this place who I wouldn’t mind being whored out to. I’m practically salivating because he’s so good looking. I shouldn’t care because he’s just as foul as the rest of these men, but goodness, my heart’s pounding all the way down to my pussy as if my body’s vibrating.

He’s tall, maybe six four. His broad shoulders scream muscular like he doesn’t wear a suit most days. He’s clearly well built in an all-black suit and tie, and he wears it well. He’s older than me, but not as old as the rest or even my father. From this distance, it’s hard to see if there is gray hair in his thick, slicked-back dark hair.

My eyes just seem to have a mind of their own as I stare at him from head to toe. My behavior is no better than any man in this place, but still, I can’t stop staring at his stern jawline with a hint of stubble coming in that makes me wonder what it would feel like to run my hand over it. I rake my eyes over him, admiring his well-built torso like a woman with experience and hunger. I can’t seem to pull my eyes away.

As I move my attention lower, a specific part of his frame catches my interest. A profound desire pools between my legs. I’m not even sure when I became such a pervert, but I’m staring straight at his cock. Maybe it’s because it’s hard to miss even with the dark suit. My tongue slips out of my mouth, and it’s only after his eyes narrow on me that I realize that I’m eye fucking him. I’ve only heard about and seen eye fucking in movies or read about it in books. It’s intensely wrong and right at the same time, and my body craves more.

Several of the girls are already making their way to him, vying for the prime rib mixed with a bunch of freezer-burned chicken. They’re all thinking the same thing I am. If we’re selling ourselves, we might as well be with a man who doesn’t make us sick to look at. Hell, I might use him as my fantasy because there’s no way he’d pick me with all those beautiful women clamoring to get closer to him.

A waiter passes by and smiles at me. I smile politely back and refuse the drink he’s offering. “A drink, my pet?” he asks, attempting to flirt with me. I shake my head a second time. Earlier I thought I wanted something to calm my nerves, but now I want my head clear so I can record the memory of the stranger perfectly in my mind.

My father ignores my refusal, snatches a wine glass off the tray, and hands me the drink. “Drink. It’ll calm your ass down.” I take it and close my eyes and hold my nose, drinking it down in one long swig. It tastes funky, but at least it’s over with.

Strangely, I want another drink. I’m going to need all the liquid courage I can get to make it through the night. When I turn my attention to the sexy beast, he’s scowling at me, proving that I’ve gotten my hopes up for nothing. He’s pissed that I’ve even turned my gaze onto him again. Fuck it.

I turn around and I’m immediately greeted by a guy a lot less attractive, and of course his eyes are running up and down my body. He has to be in his late fifties or early sixties, balding and pudgy around the middle. “How much are you going for?”

A waiter passes by and I steal another glass, drinking it before he can walk away. I set it on the tray, reaching for another when my father pushes my hand down forcefully. “Be on your way,” he informs the server.

I don’t know