Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 97079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
“I don’t know.” I kiss his cheek. “Stay hungry for me.”
CHAPTER 17
NATE
Essie is in front of me, applying her lip gloss.
Do not think about the blow job you got in Vegas last weekend.
It’s too late, though. She’s already drawn attention to those gorgeous, luscious, talented lips, and the head in my pants is waking up. I make a noise in the back of my throat. She smiles coyly.
She clearly does this on purpose. Which also begs the question, how long has she known about the effect that lip gloss and her mouth have on me? That’s a conversation for later.
Essie lifts her carry-on into a bin, then follows with her oversized purse before passing through the sensors. They ding, and the security guy on the other side waves his wand over her. It lights up when it passes her chest and again when it dips below her waist. She seems completely unfazed.
I, on the other hand, am remembering all the little moans and sighs and gasps that tumbled from her lips when I sucked on her pretty little pierced nipples and clit.
“Does Essie have body jewelry?” Flip asks from behind me.
“Shut the fuck up,” I mutter as I toss my phone and jacket in a bin.
The security guy across from me frowns. “Excuse me?”
Flip jumps in. “Hopefully the pretty one doesn’t hold us all up.” He tips his head toward Essie.
Security guy nods, his expression slightly wistful. “Looks like a full pat-down.”
I want to punch him in the face. But I want a criminal record less, and I want to go to Aruba more, so I force a smile.
Essie has been pulled off to the side. Based on her expression, this isn’t the first time this has happened. She’s lost her cropped sweatshirt and is wearing a pale pink tank. And no bra, which means I, and every single other person passing by, can clearly see the outline of her pierced nipples. Our eyes lock briefly as the female security guard makes a pass under her breasts.
I look away before my body reacts in a way that will be embarrassing in the middle of airport security.
“Pierced nipples, huh?” Flip says.
“She dated a tattoo artist,” I grumble.
“I guess that tracks.”
“What’s going on with Essie?” Tristan asks.
“She sets off the sensors every time,” Rix explains.
He frowns. “She have a surgery or something?”
“Or something.” Rix pats him on the chest.
Several security guards are now gathered around Essie, smiling and laughing. She finally gets the all clear and heads for our group, but her bag isn’t waiting for her on the belt. Apparently, it’s not Essie’s day, because that’s been pulled for additional screening.
“Seriously? I get felt up and they get to see all my lingerie?” She rolls her eyes and heads for the guy going through her bag. “You don’t have to wait,” she calls over her shoulder. “I can just meet you in the lounge.”
“We’re not going anywhere without you,” Rix replies.
We move to the side. Despite all the guys wearing nondescript baseball caps, people have started to recognize them. I keep my eye on Essie. The security guy’s face grows progressively redder as he sifts through pink lace. Which I hope I get to peel off her body this week.
The security dude holds up a ratty, saggy stuffed…something. It’s hard to tell since it’s been so well loved. “What’s inside this? Are there drugs in here? Are you concealing a weapon?”
“Oh my God, no. It’s a fake heart!”
He calls someone else over, and that guy reaches for a pair of scissors.
“Jeez! You don’t need to hack Catalina apart!” Essie’s voice goes high and reedy. “There’s a Velcro opening, on her back below her head.”
“Is that a stuffed animal?” Flip asks as he passes a hat back to one of the growing number of fans who recognize the Terror players.
“It’s Catalina. I got it for her after her cat died when we were in grade five,” Rix explains.
“I remember that. You bought it with your newspaper money, right?” Flip replies.
“Yeah. She loved that cat. She was devastated. Essie always brings Catalina on trips. Don’t be dicks about it.”
“I wasn’t planning on it,” Flip says defensively. “It’s sweet.”
I shoot him a look. He widens his eyes.
I return my gaze to Essie, who’s now hugging her ratty stuffed cat to her chest with one arm and trying to repack her bag with the other. Rix goes over to help her.
We finally clear out of the security area, and they rush us through customs because we’re causing a ruckus as the guys collect another crowd.
Once again, we board and take up the majority of first class, except this time we all have pods, so there’s no need to play musical chairs. Five hours later, we land and take a private bus to our resort.
Essie and I join Rix and Tristan at the concierge desk so we can help get everyone checked in.