Todos los capítulos de Maybe Wrong, Maybe Right: Capítulo 1 - Capítulo 10

QuinnI had one last question for Caroline before we left the warmth and comfort of the coffee shop. “Why are you doing this? You can’t stand me.”“Tsk, Quinn,” she clucked her tongue at me. “We were stupid kids. It’s in the past. I'm trying to be a better person. We all need a helping hand from time to time. There is no shame in it.” For once, Caroline looked and sounded sincere,I was a downright idiot for believing her.Caroline took me to a part of the city I had never seen before. I didn’t ever dare come this way. The women at the shelter always talked about it and warned others to avoid uptown. It was for the filthy rich, and we were not welcome here. They didn’t want their perfect little illusions shattered by the image of dirty, homeless people littering their streets.Not that I blamed them. I used to be one of them, and I was fairly certain I once held the same view of the world these people held.Caroline drove around the back of what she called, ‘Club Ninety-Nine’ but it l

TroyThe girl hung hot and heavy against my back, but I could feel her bony ribs and hips sticking sharply into my chest.I shifted my hands a little higher so I wouldn’t touch her bare skin, but it didn't help much. I was still very aware of the sparks that crackled and popped between us. It drove me absolutely bat shit crazy.She didn’t put up a fight when I grabbed her, and even as I walked with her through the crowded club, she didn’t struggle against me, just quietly accepted her fate.I ignored the death glares from the men around me. I was so used to it that it didn’t even register. Club Ninety-Nine was neutral ground. No one here was allowed to start a war or fight each other. Donovan, the co-owner, had a mantra: Leave your beef at the door.If I could, if I didn’t respect the rules put in place, I would have grabbed the girl and simply took her. She was mine, and where I came from, under our laws, I had every right to take what was mine.But this wasn’t my world. It was the h

Quinn For once, I woke in a dry, warm, soft bed with a cosy, clean pillow under my head that wasn’t crawling with lice. I snuggled deeper into the pillow, trying to remember the last few hours as best as I could. Troy disappeared the moment we walked into his massive, three-storey mansion. I hadn’t seen or heard anything from him since. Sebastian brought me up to this bedroom. It had an empty wardrobe and an empty dresser, but the bed was beautiful, modern, and made up with pretty white and blue linens. There was a single piece of modern art against the wall, and the gleaming hardwood floor was broken up by a large, light blue area rug. The bathroom was bigger than the one I had when I still lived at home. Everything inside was clean and smelled glorious. The counters were dark granite, off-set by large white tiles and black cabinets. There were large, deliciously clean and fluffy towels, and the floor was comfortably warm under my feet. Everything I needed was already in the bath

Troy Doctor Jacobs knocked and entered my office upon my command. He put his heavy black bag on the floor and sat down without waiting for an invitation. “Do you want a drink?” I asked. “Just water, thank you, I have more patients to see.” I pushed away from my desk, and went to the small bar fridge to get the doctor his water before I walked around it to perch on the edge of my table as I always do when someone I know and trust is in my office. “How is she?” “She’s malnourished and dehydrated, but in good health, all things considered.” He spent nearly an hour with Quinn, and I wasn't satistifed with his answer. “What about her foot? Is there something you can do?” The doctor woefully shook his head. “I can’t tell you. Without imaging, an MRI would be best, I can’t tell how extensive the damage is.” "When do you need her to go?" "She declined further medical attention." I snorted loudly. “When do you need her to go?" I repeated the question. "We can fit her in next week, but

Troy The rubber mallet was perfect for Quinn. It caused Gary’s fingers to break, but there wasn’t a lot of blood. The first time she brought the hammer down, it didn't cause him much pain, and the damage was minimal. “Try hitting him a little harder,” I said. She grasped the blunt tool with both hands, held it high above her head, and brought it down with all her might. The cry tearing from Gary’s chest shook the roof. I inspected his rapidly swelling left hand. His fingers were quickly going from pink to a satisfying bluish-black. “Good job,” I praised her. I was so fucking hard, and my penis bent at an awkward, painful angle that made it difficult to think. I stepped away, back into the gloom, and undid my jeans, reaching inside my boxer briefs to adjust my erection before zipping up again. “Does…does violence turn you on?” Quinn asked behind me, a little uncertain still, but braver now. “Watching you does,” I said, sticking to my new honesty above all else rule. “If it were just