Free A Million Dirty Secrets by C. L. Parker

wasn’t really sure you could even call it a kitchen. That justseemed like such a small word for the restaurant-style food preparation center that was before me. Everything was stainless steel and more sterile than the inside of a gallon of bleach. However, a quick glance around showed no sign of monkey brains or those brass cuppy thingies they were served in, so it was all good.
    I looked around until I finally found a pantry that was as big as the entire first floor of my house back home, and boy, did I ever hit the mother lode of junk food. Seemed Mr. Crawford, aka King of the Finger Fuck, had a sweet tooth. I grabbed a box of Cocoa Puffs—because I seriously was coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs—and some chocolate syrup and did the happy-time dance out of the pantry and back into the kitchen.
    I remembered seeing bowls somewhere during my search, but it was going to be like a massive game of Memory to find them again. After opening several cabinets, I finally scored a win and squealed, “Yay, me!” while I did a fist pump in the air.
    I was my biggest fan.
    The refrigerator was obvious and, you guessed it, huge. Imagine my disappointment, though, when I opened one side of it to find that it wasn’t a walk-in cold storage unit. I wouldn’t have been surprised to find a butcher living inside there with a whole herd of cattle, but I guess Noah skimped on that part.
    I grabbed the milk and went back over to my stash, filling my bowl with cereal and licking my chops when I poured the moo juice over the cocoa yumminess and it turned all chocolaty. I was careful not to pour too much and make a mess, even though there was probably some little flute thingy around there somewhere to blow on to command a group of littleorange men with green hair to scurry in and clean up before retreating back to the dungeon of doom and gloom with the rest of their little pals.
    Yes, I had an overactive imagination, but it was totally warranted in a place as big as this.
    I knew exactly where the glasses were from my previous expedition for the bowl, so I grabbed one and squirted a crazy amount of chocolate syrup into it. I swear I could hear my dentist tsking at me from somewhere deep in the recesses of my conscience.
    And then it was time to start another game of seek-and-find to score some silverware. A plastic spoon would’ve been okay at this point … heck, I’d make do with a spork.
Score!
First drawer I opened, I hit the jackpot. Which was a good thing, because I loathed soggy cereal.
    Milk and syrup back to the refrigerator, cereal box back in the pantry, and I was on my way.
    And then the phone rang.
    I looked around the kitchen and finally spotted it hanging on the wall next to the stove, but there was no way I was going to answer that thing. Firstly, because that would mean I’d have to leave my sugar haven. Secondly, because I had absolutely no idea who it could be, and it wasn’t my house. Plus, how would I explain who I was or why I was answering Noah’s telephone?
    Um, hi. I’m the piece of virgin ass for whom Mr. Crawford paid two million smackeroos to have his dirty, dirty way with. In fact, he just fucked my mouth last night, but that was after I nearly bit off his dick and before he finger-fucked my whore of apussy into oblivion this morning. He’s not here right now, but I can take a message if you want
.
    Yeah, that conversation was not going to happen.
    So I ignored the incessant ringing and dug into my goodies.
    As much as it was irritating me, the sound of the phone did remind me that I needed to call Dez and check in with her. I had stashed my cell phone away in my things, hoping whoever purchased me wouldn’t do something like take it away and forbid me to have any contact whatsoever with the outside world. Noah hadn’t said I couldn’t, so I assumed it would be okay.
    Not that I really gave a rat’s ass what he said. I’d sold him my body, not my humanity.
    Once I’d scarfed down my breakfast, I rinsed my