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Distorted Love (Dark Intentions Duet #1)
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I loved him from the age of sixteen.
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My hands run the length of the cold cement wall at the back of the alley. I’m in a place I don’t recognize but I was requested to meet here. Straightening my posture, I brush my fingers through my blonde hair and take another step, one foot in front of the other in my high heels. These things cost me more than a pretty penny with their signature red soles. So here I am because I received an email telling me the location.
It has to be her.
Or so I thought.
It’s been one year since I’ve seen her. Or him for that matter. They ran off together. I loved him as much as I loved her. It wasn’t fair. They broke my heart.
Checking my phone, I pause with one hand on the cement wall and notice I have no reception. Great. Just what I need. Rummaging through my bag, I check for my wallet, and find my pills and bottle of water as well. Hey, at least I have water. If I die today, I’ll be hydrated.
It’s late. My last client was finalized before I left to come here. So, after this, I plan to go and sit in my bath and drink all the fucking wine.
If I make it out alive, that is. Looking up, there’s a white door a short distance away from me. It has a sign hanging from a rusty nail that states ‘Knock Three Times.’ I want to laugh and purposely knock only once, or twice, to be a smart ass. I restrain myself. Instead, I go against my better judgment and knock three times like the sign says.
Standing there, I wait for the door to magically open. It doesn’t. Instead, nothing happens. So I knock again. This time, four times for good measure. I chuckle. Nothing.
Turning around, I notice the door I entered through is now shut.
Fuck! I swear I left it open. How did that happen?
A scream rips from my mouth.
Quinn is standing in front of me.
That same deadly stare he had all those years ago still in place.
He’s a collector. And not of things. Of people.
“Saskia.” He says my name then steps back, pushing the door open to a dark room.
I don’t want to walk in there. Who the fuck knows what’s in that room, and I sure as shit don’t want to find out. I’m more than happy keeping all my body parts today, thank you very much.
Turning, a voice stops me.
It isn’t Quinn’s.
No, it’s him.
Emotions slam into me.
He holds them all. He’s the reason I’m the person I am today.
“Barbie…” A shiver runs over my skin, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up like little soldiers.
Ryken Lord is back.
But what for?
“Ryken,” I say, spinning around and staring into the darkened room. He lights a small candle, the flicker letting me make out his shape as I step into the room. Quinn shuts the door behind me and effectively locks us in.
“You shouldn’t have come back.” He steps forward, and my heart slams into my chest.
Three pumps, one for each time he broke the fucking thing.
His lip twitches. My heart stutters. Our eyes meet.
Ridiculous manic girl meets stupid criminal boy.
“How could I stay away, Barbie? Surely you knew I’d be back, for you.”
I shake my head at his words. “Where is she?”
He shakes his head. “I’m here to discuss us.”
My head shakes slowly, and I step back to the door, reaching out for the handle. I pull it open, looking back to the man that I want to stab in the eye, but fuck at the same time.
“You sir, can go fuck yourself in the ass. Don’t fucking contact me again!”
Quinn smirks as I walk past him.
“You owe me, Barbie.”
Turning back, I see him standing at the door, and it’s now I notice that he’s dressed in all black. The way he should be. He smirks knowing he has me now.
“And I’ve come to collect what’s mine.”
Shaking my head, I run. Away from him, and away from my shattered heart that I
left with him.
Because Ryken is not a man to be trusted. He’s proven that on many occasions.
Every time he’s managed to break my heart.
Then he gave his to her.
Bending her over, legs spread, my hand on her ass, that’s how I’ve imagined her. Her perfect round ass up in the air for my viewing pleasure.
Saskia Tyler—a Barbie bombshell.
The boys know her as Tyler, I know her as Barbie.
She bends down to pick up something, and my head goes crazy with thoughts. Of how her tight little tits will fit perfectly in my hand, to how her pink nipples will feel with my mouth wrapped around them. The things I can do to her. The things my hands, mouth, and tongue can do to her. They could punish her, the way she likes it.