Patricia Arquette Pulp Fiction Novels & Stories

Patricia’s body jerked and spasmed a few times before she released a second wave of love fluid. ​ “Mmm...” She collapsed onto the mattress. He retracted both his hips and fingers, allowing her to rest. ​ “You’re happy, aren’t you, Pat? No one has ever done this for you, right?” Arthur untied both the ropes on her hands and the necktie around her mouth. Patricia had no strength left to fight back. Her breathing was still heavy. He was far from finished, while she had already come twice. Patricia admitted it was a strange mix of pleasure and distress.

"Overruled. Answer the question." Patricia's voice shook. "I'm telling the truth." "Are you? Let's talk about your history. You were fired from two hospitals for drug theft, correct?" "I had a problem. I got clean." "After stealing thousands of dollars worth of medications? Including potassium chloride?" "That was different." "Was it? Or did you steal the medication that killed Gloria Martinez, blame it on a wealthy man, and trade your testimony for a lenient sentence?" Patricia was crying now. "No. He ordered it. I have the wire transfer…"

she suggested, her eyes sparkling with mischief. I frowned, but Patricia’s smirk only widened. “Sure, babe. I haven’t had enough of the Magic Mike from last night,” she replied, clearly trying to get under my skin. Hyacinth laughed harder, her hand rubbing my arm soothingly as Patricia and I engaged in a silent glaring contest. Patricia finally broke it off with a smirk and a wave. “Let me know what kind of strip club we’ll be going to,” she called over her shoulder as she walked away.

He shrugged his shoulder, "If you say so. They've been hitting on me ever since my name boomed up. I'm trying to do my business here, I don't have time for them." "That's the reason why you throw an investigation on me?" "It happens that when I saw your face on the internet, you seem familiar." Patricia sighed and closed her eyes to keep her composed. If she refuses Luca's offer, everyone knows that she is THAT Tricia Barone. That Patricia Arquette is just a cover-up for her to do things freely and out of trouble. "When are we getting married?" "Now. Call one of your trusted friends so they could be our witness." "I only have one."

Maybe this was what he mentioned when he said he liked the way I work? “It didn’t fit?” I exhale as we come up on a bend that leads up to the final mile to the harbor. “On the contrary, it fit too well.” Asher frowns, and I feel a familiar tingle at my finger tips. “What?” “Patricia is a druggie, not a crime lord, she was high when it happened. I have to recreate the scene to be sure, but something is not right.” The car swings into the lot.

Charlotte felt an increasing sense of foreboding, yet she feigned innocence, tilting her head to look at her: "What are you saying? I don't understand?" Patricia laughed dryly: "Debbie once tried to frame me just like you are now! Do you know what I did?" Charlotte looked at her with eyes of innocence. Patricia enunciated each word: "I just fulfilled her wishes! If I didn't act, wouldn't that be a disservice to you all." As soon as she finished speaking, before anyone could react, she pushed Charlotte to the ground. Charlotte had just deliberately fallen to the ground, attempting to frame Patricia, controlling the force well enough that only her palms were slightly red, with no other injurie

She looked at me, saw the state I was in, covered in cum, holes gaping, shaking on the floor, and she actually smiled. “Look at you, babe,” she said, voice husky. “Getting properly fucked for once.” The fourth man, who they called Derek, grabbed Patricia by the hair and pushed her down next to me. “Time to share your friend,” he said. “Well fuck me,” he said also, already unzipping. “You weren’t lying, Patricia. She really is a total cumdump.” Patricia dropped to her knees beside me, kissing me sloppily, tasting the cum on my lips.

"Well, if we find a way to set you free without you dying, then I won't keep you a prisoner inside the orb for any longer." Finn smiles. "Thank you, Patricia." "You're welcome." I watch Finn take a seat with a plate bigger than his earlier one with both taco shells and nachos. The man seems to have a black hole for a stomach, and when he catches me looking, his lips turn smug. "By the way, I've been meaning to tell you this: you're interesting, Patricia—when you passed out, the face creeping into your mind was the one belonging to Dior, and yet you haven't finished this mating ritual. Why is that?"

"Patricia, I need to know the truth. Were you working for Blake?" Patricia looked at Matthew and Dr. Harrison. Then she looked back at me. "Yes. I was working for Blake." "Why?" "He paid me fifty thousand dollars to find you." "And what were you supposed to do when you found me?" "Bring you back to him." "By force….If necessary." I studied her face. She looked sad. Tired. "Patricia, on the plane you told me something different. You said you were working with Dr. Harrison. You said this was all a plan to fake my death and get me to Switzerland for treatment."

He sits up, swings his legs off the couch. He asks if there is news. I tell him I have not checked my phone. I have been avoiding it. He picks up the satellite phone from the table. He scrolls through messages. His face tightens. His jaw clenches. He says Julian found something. The woman in the photograph. The one who sent the text last night. She has a name. She was Patricia’s closest friend. They grew up together in the same wealthy circles. She was at the wedding. She was at the galas. She knew about the poison. She helped Patricia cover it up.