Dirty Ugly Toy
Authors: K Webster
Dirty Ugly Toy
Copyright © 2015 K. Webster
Cover Design: All By Design
Photo: Dollar Photo Club
Editor: Premier Romance Editing
Formatting: Champagne Formats
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Books by
Author K Webster
T
HE
B
REAKING THE
R
ULES
S
ERIES:
Broken (Book 1)
– Available Now!
Wrong (Book 2)
– Available Now!
Scarred (Book 3)
– Available Now!
Mistake (Book 4)
– Available Now!
Crushed (Book 5 – a novella)
– Available Now!
T
HE
V
EGAS
A
CES
S
ERIES:
Rock Country (Book 1)
– Available Now!
Rock Heart (Book 2)
– Available Now!
Rock Bottom (Book 3)
– Available Now!
Becoming Lady Thomas (Book 1)
– Available Now!
Becoming Countess Dumont (Book 2)
– Available Now!
Becoming Mrs. Benedict (Book 3
)
– Available Now!
Alpha & Omega
– Available Now!
Omega & Love
– Available Now!
S
TANDALONE
N
OVELS
Apartment 2B
– Available Now!
Love and Law
– Available Now!
Moth to a Flame
– Available Now!
Erased
– Available Now!
The Road Back to Us
– Available Now!
Give Me Yesterday
–
Available Now!
Running Free
– Available Now!
Irrevocably Claimed Anthology with Zeke’s Eden
– Available Now!
My love . . .
Life may get dirty and things may get ugly.
Our love, though, will always be perfect to me.
. . . Your love
Warning
Dirty Ugly Toy
is a novel that blurs the lines of right and wrong, deals with abuse, contains dubious consent, and adult subject matter. If you are sensitive to violent sexual situations, the book may not be suitable for you. Some parts of this book are not easy to read and are not intended for everyone. However, those that keep an open mind and stick with it will not be disappointed.
“As men get older, the toys get more expensive.”
Marvin Davis
Two weeks earlier . . .
T
ears roll down her bright red cheeks and her garbled pleas become more frantic with each passing mile. Dubois trussed her up tight at the estate—her wrists fastened behind her back with a zip tie, a matching one around her bare ankles, and a scarf strung through her open mouth to the point of nearly gagging her. She’s most likely cut the flesh on her arms from trying to escape. The thought of blood smeared over her olive skin sends a surge of excitement through my veins.
They all try to escape the inevitable in the end.
Every single fucking time it’s the same.
Please don’t get rid of me, sir.
I drag my eyes away from the glorified whore and turn my bored attention to the Washington state tree line along the interstate. We’re almost there—to the place where each toy meets their end. Where I dust my hands and start anew.
“Another ten minutes, sir,” Dubois assures me from the driver’s seat.
I meet his eyes in the mirror and nod before turning back to the window. When we slow and then turn onto a gravel road that leads into the dark, thick woods, she begins screaming through the scarf. With an infuriated huff, I snap my gaze to meet hers.
The toy, one whom I actually enjoyed for a spell, is getting on my fucking nerves. Her almond-shaped eyes are swollen from crying for the entire two-hour drive. They flicker with fear when the vehicle slows to a stop.
“You were fun for a little while,” I tell her with a yawn. I’m going to sleep for a fucking week before making my journey back to London. This shit, no matter how gratifying, gets so goddamn exhausting. Especially at the end. I’m bored and tired. And the toy is used and done with.
Dubois climbs out of the car and I hear him exchange words in Russian with Matvei. The toy, even though she doesn’t know a word in the language, becomes hysterical. I’m assuming she understands her fate—as they all do about now.
“Time to say goodbye, Swan.”
I’d like to taste her lips once more—to savor her essence for the way back home. She flinches when I reach over and tug the scarf free from her swollen lips but doesn’t waste any time begging.
“Please, my master. Don’t do this,” she cries out, “You don’t have to do this!”
My eyes narrow and I lazily drag my gaze down her throat to her heaving breasts—breasts I know are marked and bruised from my teeth beneath her thin black dress. My dick doesn’t even stir at the reminder which is exactly why I must get rid of her.
She bores me now.
“Swan, I suggest you shut your stupid mouth before I choke you with this scarf,” I tell her with a growl. “You belong to me until that very last second. Do you understand me?”
Hope flickers in her eyes and I have the urge to slap the look right off her face. It’s as if she doesn’t know me at all.
“Y-Y-You c-c-could k-keep me,” she chatters, the frigid air that’s swirled in from Dubois’ open door, chilling her.
I scoff. “And do what? Marry you? Have half fucking Asian babies with you?”
She nods rapidly and it pisses me off. Lightning fast, I snatch a handful of her black hair and yank her to me.
Wide, terrified eyes meet mine and my dick actually does twitch for a moment. I could fuck her one last time—for old times’ sake.
“Ready, sir?”
Dubois’ voice from the front jerks me from my thoughts of doing anything stupid and I turn my attention to him.
“Yes. Bring me the scissors.”
I drag my gaze back to hers and inhale her. Swan, who loved to cook, smells of ginger and wasabi. She’d been in the middle of making me sushi when I decided I was done with her.
“Please, sir,” she begs again, “Don’t do this. I love you!”
They all love me.
How could they not?
“Swan, I could never love a whore. You were nothing more than a toy to me. Now you’re done, baby.”
A gust of frigid air enters the back of the car when Dubois opens my door. The gleam of the scissors in the moonlight is beautiful but the scream that rips from Swan is otherworldly.
