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)
He sucks long and slow, taking me as I grow, his wet mouth sucking, licking, and the tip of his tongue dragging slowly up my shaft. I cover my eyes, laughing a little, because I need to let something out. All the energy in my body gathers on the insides of my thighs, and I fist his hair.
“Y’all, get in the fucking shower,” Iron barks. “Jesus.”
Jerking my head, I see he’s still facing the window as Callum shakes with laughter he doesn’t let out.
“Sorry, man,” I gasp, jumping out of bed.
I wrap the sheet around me and push Callum out the door.
Once inside the bathroom, I lock the door and back him up against it. “What if I hadn’t been alone?” I ask him.
“Don’t threaten me.” He pulls his shirt over his head and comes for my mouth again. “I’m all you can handle.”
Sliding down my body, he takes me into his mouth again and I damn near fall into the damn door, trying to keep my legs under me.
“Yeah, you are,” I say, sliding my fingers through his hair.
But the locks feel different—longer. I blink, realizing my eyes were closed, and look down, seeing a red head bobbing up and down on my cock.
What the fuck?
“What?” I tilt her chin up. “Who are you?”
I blink, trying to clear the memory from my vision. It’s just dawn outside, the orange light glimmering through the trees.
“It’s me,” she says.
Who?
I stare at her, but it’s dark, and the freckles and green eyes are kind of ringing a bell, I guess?
She cocks her head to the side. “Seriously?”
And that did it. She’s the waitress at Mariette’s who says “seriously” and “definitely” all the time.
“Jessica,” I finally say, collapsing back into bed.
She smiles, returning to my cock, and I lock my hands over my eyes while she blows me. His voice lingers in my ear, though, and I don’t like the feel of her. The cold creeps in, her perfume distracting me.
She sucks and slurps, and my ire rises. I’ve slept with plenty of people in the past five years, but he’s on my mind again, and unfortunately, I liked it the other night just as much as I did five years ago.
God, I fucking hope I can keep my distance. Friday night was a fluke. We were both turned on after the Wolfe Room, and Anna-Katherine had been devastated. I was moved to…have sympathy for him. That’s all.
Jessica lifts her head. “Well, it was working,” she says, letting my soft dick go. “Come on, I’m horny.”
She nibbles at my stomach, but her saliva’s too slippery. I’m not into it. “Just go to Iron’s room or something.”
I’m still not sure if he’s slept with anyone since he’s been back, but she’s hot enough.
“Seriously?” she pouts. “Is it me?”
Yes. I was hard until you showed up.
“Don’t wake me up again,” I gripe, pulling the sheet back up. “I don’t have this summer off.”
I need sleep. This weekend was awful, the rain keeping us all drunk, and three of our people got arrested for breaking curfew Saturday night. Macon’s on the warpath, and Army is still refusing to speak to me. Fine, motherfucker. You can pick up your own kid from karate class when September rolls around.
She leaves, and I throw off the sheet. Rising, I pull my towel off my desk chair, wrapping myself in it.
My pants from Friday night still lie on the floor, and I sigh. It was hard enough for Krisjen to get us all fitted for suits for a “just in case” situation, and now I have to replace the shirt and jacket.
I wonder how many items of clothing get left at the Wolfe Room. Lifting the pants to my nose, I inhale—and it only makes things worse that the entire fabric smells like his bed. Not the Wolfe Room or the rain or the sweat after running around…
After that memory this morning, I wish I’d had him next to me when I woke up. I love fucking in the morning, before we even open our mouths to speak.
And I hate those thoughts, too.
I punch the parentheses on the wall twice and head out to the hall, walking to the bathroom.
“Oh, Clay,” my sister moans.
I stop, glancing at the closed door of her bedroom.
“Oh, God,” she cries out. “Right there.”
I blink long and hard, pushing away the images of my sister getting head from her fiancée. They’re still renovating the lighthouse, so they sleep here more often than not, and I can’t wait till they’re doing it at their own house.
Continuing to the bathroom, I hear a headboard hitting a wall, and I jerk my head up again, this time to the left.
“Fuck, baby,” Macon groans behind his closed bedroom door. “I love you so much. Goddamn.”
The knocking continues, increasing in speed, and the sounds of my siblings fucking their Saints is like two walls closing in on both sides of my brain.