Wanted by ML Ross Read Free Book Online Page A

She
looks like an angel that fell from the sky.  What the fuck am I going to
do with this girl?  I can’t take her to the hospital.  I can’t
fucking call the police.  I can’t leave her here.
    “Fuck!”
I place one arm gently under her knees and the other under her neck and lift
her unconscious body.  I slide her into the back of my FJ and stare at her
as she lay there motionless.  I wonder who she is and where she was
going.  I shake my head at the unbelievable shit that only seems to happen
to me.  Jumping in the truck, I think about my options.  I need to
hide her car.  I slowly push her little crunched up VW bug with the front
end of my FJ until it is hidden in the trees on the side of Route 50. 
They will find it but it might take them a bit longer.  I have to get off
this road before I’m seen.  I guess I only have one option.  She has
to come with me.
    I
turn on the dark dirt road trying to dodge the potholes, looking in the
backseat every so often to make sure she isn’t awake.  When I finally reach
the cabin, I check on her one more time. She hasn’t moved a muscle. I jump out
of the truck and quickly open the door to the cabin and throw on a light. 
I dart into the bedroom and pull the sheet down on the bed and then run back to
the truck.  I open the door and watch her chest rise and fall while I
stand there with my hands on my hips trying to catch my breath. 
Shit!  She has great tits.  I can’t even think straight.  What
the fuck am I doing?
    I
carry her into the cabin and lay her on the bed and assess her injuries
again.  Her legs are torn up.  Her arm looks swollen.  Her ribs
are bruised.  I run into the bathroom to rummage through the medicine
cabinet.  I gather a bunch of prescription meds, peroxide, towels and
bandages.  As I stand next to the bed with my arms full of supplies, I
gawk at her broken body.  Shit!  I can’t believe this is
happening.  My eyes drift up to her face. She’s covered in cuts and
bruises but she is absolutely beautiful.  My dick strains against my zipper,
wanting her so bad.
    I
place all the items in my arms down on the bed.  I take a deep breath and
unbutton her jeans as I look up to her eyes to make sure she is still
unconscious.  I unzip them and try to slide them down her legs carefully
but her blood is starting to dry to the fabric. I run into the kitchen and grab
a knife. I swallow heavy and place the blade of the knife under her jeans and
slice my way up one leg and then the other, slowly pulling the denim away from
her skin.  As hard as I fucking try, I cannot stop my eyes from drifting
to the soft white cotton between her thighs.  She makes a soft whimper and
moves slightly and I freeze, my eyes locked on hers until she seems to settle
back down.  I grab a towel and soak it in peroxide and begin to clean her
legs.  She lets out a few long moans and winces as I touch her with the
peroxide but she doesn’t wake up.  Pushing her thighs slightly apart, I
notice a nasty cut on her inner thigh.  She’s going to need
antibiotics.  I lift her shirt once again to check her ribs.  Yellow
and purple bruises are beginning to spread across her torso. They are
definitely going to be sore.  Her swollen arm might be sprained.  I
don’t think it’s broken so I make her a sling out of an old t-shirt so she
doesn’t move it in her sleep and twist it worse.  Once I have her cuts
cleaned, I sit next to her on the bed willing her to wake up.  I sit there
for an hour until my eyes start to droop.  I’m so tired.  I have to
close my eyes.  I can’t sleep.  If she wakes up, she will panic and
run.  Maybe try go to the police.  Or she will fucking kill me in my
sleep.  I can’t take that chance.  I sit there a bit longer but I
keep nodding off.  Shit!  I can’t take it.  I go into the closet
and lift the lid of the box I found when I got here and pull the handcuffs
out.  I hold them in my hands and start to think that this