Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 114492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
I roll my eyes. “Kat, I promised Jonas I wouldn’t leave your side tonight. Please stop acting like a fucking toddler.”
She steps inside the elevator, smirking. “Sucks to be you. Hopefully, your crazy-ass brother won’t beat your ass too hard for breaking your promise to him.” She waves. “Ciao, motherfucker.”
“Kat. Stop. Don’t you dare fucking leave me right now.”
Her pout turns into a diabolical smile. “‘Don’t you dare’? Ha! Just a tip, Jess,” she says. “Never use that threat with me—it’ll backfire every freaking time.” The doors begin closing. “I hate that, Jess. I really do.” She waves as the doors close on her smug face and, just like that, she’s gone.
“Goddammit, Stubborn Kat!” I scream out loud in the empty hallway. I make a long, exasperated sound like a pot about to boil, and then I turn and sprint back into Reed’s suite (which isn’t a pleasant thing to do with a raging hard-on, I gotta say), muttering words like “terrorist” and “fucking” and “crazy” and “bullshit” and “so fucking hot I wanna punch a goddamned wall” to myself as I go.
Twenty
Kat
Oh shit. Why did I just do that? What came over me? I never get jealous, ever, unless I’m in a committed relationship—and even then it’s an extremely rare emotion for me to feel. And here I was, ready to rip that bitch’s pretty little head off and cut off Josh’s balls and smash them between two graham crackers. Am I just ugly drunk? That’s gotta be it. Why do I care who Josh slept with last week? I did the exact same thing, didn’t I?
No, I didn’t. I didn’t sleep with the meanest little bitch in the whole, wide world and then obviously leave the door open for her afterwards to think there was even a snowball’s chance in hell for more of the same. Jen looked awfully happy to see Josh—when she saw him, she certainly didn’t look like she thought she’d been rejected by him a few days before.
My head is reeling. I can only assume my brain has short-circuited from sexual frustration and seething jealousy. And who could blame me after what I witnessed tonight? Goddammit, Josh is literally the hottest man I’ve ever laid eyes on, by far. Jesus Christ, I had no idea what he was hiding under his suit. I practically climaxed at the sight of him standing in that damned hallway with that ridiculous dick of his. Oh my God, I could see every detail of it, every ridge and bulge—the tip, the shaft, his balls, that little vein—all of it as plain as day under the wet fabric of his briefs. Good lord, he’d gag me with that thing. Maybe even kill me. But what a way to go. My clit is throbbing mercilessly just thinking about it. If I had my vibrator right now, it’d take me less than a minute to give myself the biggest orgasm of my life.
The elevator arrives at the lobby floor and the doors open onto the hotel’s bustling casino. Wow, it’s closing in on dawn and this place is still jumping.
What the hell is happening to me right now? I feel completely out of control. Like, literally insane. I can’t even remember half of what I just said to Josh in that hallway. Why the hell did I rip into him like that? I honestly didn’t care when he told me about his New York screw earlier tonight—I really didn’t—but I suppose hearing about her and seeing her are two different things. When he told me about fucking some faceless blast from his past, I didn’t have to stare at her perfect boobs and tiny waist and get hit with her snooty I’m-better-than-you-rich-bitch glare. And I didn’t have to imagine Josh thrusting his enormous dick into her petite little body and ripping her in two or pressing his magnificent muscles and tattooed skin against her, making her scream his name.
A repulsive image suddenly flickers across my brain: Josh naked with a gigantic hard-on and Jen, not me, down on her knees, taking his enormous dick into her mouth. Oh my God, I’m gonna barf. That should be me, goddammit! I throw my hands over my face, stuffing back tears. That should be me.
Why am I reacting like this? Josh isn’t my boyfriend. Whatever I’ve been starting to feel about him, I’d better back it the fuck up and cool my jets. This guy’s not even remotely interested in having a committed relationship, not with me or anyone. And, frankly, neither am I. I’m single and loving it. Hell yeah, I am. Loving it!
There’s a craps table a few feet away so I drift over to it like a drunk driver following headlights on the freeway, my bare feet shuffling along the dirty casino carpet as I walk. I peek over at the game just in time to see a handsome gray-haired man roll a seven and crap out.