The bastard texted her on Valentine’s Day morning.
The days since she’d confronted him went by in a blur. She didn’t know how many clients she’d serviced, and she had no idea if they’d paid her correctly. She didn’t care. Her only purpose in life was to serve as a receptacle for men. For their fingers, their tongues, their c***s. Their c*m.
You’re a w***e. Ten years of conversations with Niles and those three words were the only ones she could, with any clarity, remember him saying. Sean texted and called a few times, but she ignored him. He meant well, but she didn’t want to be comforted. Even in the painful-yet-wonderful way he had a knack for doing.
When she saw that Niles texted her, her first instinct was to throw her phone across the room. Instead, she opened the message and stare
