Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Wendy’s eyes widened. “Peter’s engaged?” Her stare jerked to the cluster of women fondling him. One had her hand in his pants while another kissed him. “That…whore.”
“He’ll never go through with the wedding. Peter sees marriage as a debt. And Peter hates feeling indebted.”
Wait until Father learns this, she thought. That should shatter any lingering illusions about Peter being an upstanding gentleman.
“How does his fiancée feel about him kissing other women?
“She has no control over him. Peter’s his own person. He’s wild like the woods, and he does what he wants.”
“Well, eventually, he’ll grow up. All men have to.”
“Not Peter.”
One of the sirens straddled Peter’s lap. Belle scoffed in disgust and walked away, leaving Wendy, once more, abandoned and alone.
Frustrated by the spectacle he was putting on, Wendy marched over to her self-involved host, disrupting him before a true Roman orgy began. “Peter.”
He didn’t hear her. His face was hidden by a curtain of hair belonging to the woman currently making out with him. She cleared her throat.
The moans stopped, and several sharp, glistening eyes turned on her like vipers in a basket. Their thick, feathered lashes batted indifferently as their full lips pursed over what were most likely mouthfuls of fangs. Their cold hostility didn’t deter her.
“Peter,” she snapped with enough firmness to get his attention.
Up close, the women were more frightening than pretty. The one that had been kissing Peter had long, jet-black nails.
“Who are you?” the clawed one asked, taking her measure with a quick, unimpressed glance.
“I’m Wendy.” She looked at Peter, but he only grinned, folding his arms behind his head as if to say, I warned you.
Her fury from earlier could not compare to what she felt now.
He just laid there like a spread of overpriced caviar that started to smell. She wanted to leave but didn’t know the way back to the house. It was clear Peter would be no help. He was only worried about himself.
“You’re despicable.”
Turning her back on him, she searched the lagoon for the Lost Boys. One of them would surely help her get home.
The beach was now overcome with naked bodies, and in the moonlight, many of the figures looked the same. She spotted the twins sharing a woman whose moans echoed through the night, then saw Nibbs thrusting wildly into a busty woman spread out along the jetty. Her stare bolted back to the twins as they pleasured the woman with their mouths, one at her breasts, the other feasting between her thighs.
Her horrified gaze darted back to Peter, and he laughed.
“You’ll have to pardon Wendy,” he told the females surrounding him. “She’s a bit of a prude.”
The women snickered, whispering behind their claws and hissing judgments through their sharp fangs. The magic of this ethereal place entirely faded as she understood she was on her own. Peter was only interested in fucking her, and it was now abundantly clear that they were not friends.
Irritated, she stormed off in a rage but couldn’t escape the sounds of slapping flesh, catlike cries, and masculine moans.
How could Peter bring her here only to forget she existed? He was intentionally being cruel to punish her for not having sex with him, selfishly thinking only of himself. The longer she watched the debauchery unfold from the shadows, the more her bitterness grew.
She was just about to risk getting lost in the jungle when a commotion broke out between Peter and his Mediterranean harem. Wendy perked up, trying to see what was happening.
Peter was on his feet, frantically adjusting his clothes, as he rushed toward a copse of trees on the other side of the grotto.
The women called him back, but he ignored their pleas. What was he rushing off to?
Understanding dawned when Wendy spotted a dusky beauty scowling from the shadows. Ah, was this the fiancée?
Raking his fingers through his mussed hair, Peter approached the woman. He spoke, but they were too far away for Wendy to hear their words. Peter reached for the woman’s hand, but she flung his touch away. Inwardly, Wendy smirked. Served him right.
There were no tells of affection between them, but Peter still tried to reason with her. It seemed strange that anyone would have that sort of hold over him, even if it were weak at best. But this woman showed no desperation for his attention. She appeared only to want his respect.
The outsider held her shoulders back, her body language boasting of confidence as Peter peppered her with excuses. When she heard enough, she slapped his face, the resounding whack loud enough to still the nearby onlookers.
“Filthy cockslut!” his fiancée snapped, and Peter’s hands balled into tight fists at his sides as everyone stared, holding their collective breaths.
The perilous energy vibrated across the lagoon. Peter had a temper, but would he use it on the woman he was promised to marry? He had been the one in the wrong, after all. It was a train wreck, and the lagoon bystanders couldn’t look away, but Wendy had seen enough.