Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
And then there’s…
“Dallas Jaeger…” I muse out loud. “He invited us.”
More like “dared,” but I’m not picky.
“For his own entertainment,” Milo points out.
I shrug. “He’s bored.”
Milo chuckles, massaging his crotch as he looks back at the guys. “He’ll be more than entertained when I get a blow job from one of their waitresses right here in about twenty minutes.”
And he slaps the center console in my car, totally ready because his girlfriend will never know.
“Good.” I slide up along the edge of the dirt road where it meets the grass. Mariette’s restaurant glows up ahead. “Because I’m bored, too.”
I climb out of the car, hearing my friends stumble out of the back seat, laughing.
I should’ve brought more people. And Milo’s right. Girls would’ve helped. Wind blows my hair as rain hits my shoulders, my linen button-down sticking to my chest. Scanning the area, I take in the diners on Mariette’s porch amid some empty tables. Good place to be seen, do some flirting…
But I lock in on the music blasting from my left and turn my head.
Light and activity spill out of the large house behind the trees, people talking with drinks in their hands as they loiter just off the porch. Through the windows, the house looks packed on the bottom level, the second floor and attic more somber, only a dim light in a couple of rooms.
I’ve known it was his house for as long as I can remember, but I’ve never been inside.
That’s where he’ll be right now, though. All that liquor. All those bodies.
Gesturing to the house, I grin at my friends. “Hurricane party.”
We’re not expecting a hurricane, but it’s only a matter of time. Southerners party more in bad weather. What else is there to do?
My friends laugh, every muscle in Cameron’s body tensing as if he can’t contain the excitement.
“Oh, shit,” Milo murmurs with a grin.
His blue eyes gleam with anticipation as they follow me.
We traipse across the muddy road, sidestepping puddles as I throw out a text and slip my phone into my back pocket. There’s one cell tower in Sanoa Bay, so my last known location will be logged. Macon Jaeger will know this. I’m sure we’ll be safe. Mostly.
But will they? I guess we’ll see.
Vincent stops as we approach their front yard. “Are we sure about this?”
“Don’t worry,” I reply. “I don’t go anywhere without protection.”
Milo snorts, and all of us turn and look up at the open front door. Some guests make eye contact as they stand in the yard.
Milo rubs his hands together. “First one to fuck someone in this house…” he says, “gets my car for the rest of the month.”
I might like that. He’s got a pristine 1980 Plymouth Volaré Roadrunner—a gift from his dad as long as he doesn’t fail another class.
We tread up the steps and walk into the house, the music hitting my chest like a hammer.
People fill the foyer, the living room, and the dining room to the left, several trailing up the stairs as well. A few turn, checking us out as we drift in, and even with the lights dimmed, it’s impossible to look like we belong here. Our shoes are leather; theirs are beat up from working hard. Their clothes are Walmart; ours are Bal Harbour.
I gather it won’t be long before we’re discovered.
Milo nudges me in the abs, and I follow his gaze to a beautiful brunette.
Aracely Diaz. A real pain in the ass, and I look her up and down as she stands with a group of girls, doing the same to us.
“Go for it,” I tell him. “I’m going to browse.”
It’s what I usually say, albeit in different words. If Milo has caught on that I haven’t fucked anyone yet, he hasn’t said. He probably thinks I’m picky. Or a prude who only does it in private.
He moves toward the girls in the hallway, Vincent and Cameron heading to the kitchen for drinks. I wander into the living room, locking eyes with a couple of girls, seeing them smile. They take in my clothes, and I linger on their skintight jean shorts riding up their asses, and tits spilling out of their shirts. I could have one or both of them tonight, and I wouldn’t even have to talk much. They’d do it, because I’m something different and maybe I’ll buy them something pretty.
Turning back around, I lock eyes with Dallas as he leans against the wall, next to a window.
I stop.
His arm is wrapped around a girl, her body pressed to him, and I stand there as he makes out with her.
They kiss, his tongue licking her lips, and she’s lost in it—going at him and practically grinding into him, but…
He gazes at me, his mouth devouring her, but it’s like he doesn’t even know she’s there. He bites her bottom lip, dragging it out between his teeth.