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)
Josh laughs. “‘I am a golden god.’”
“Almost Famous,” I quip, easily identifying the source of his quote.
Josh beams a smile at me. “We can add that to your list of dude-like qualities: ‘can identify movie quotes.’”
I laugh. “Yeah, I’m pretty damned good at it, actually.”
“You’re good at everything,” he says tenderly. He sighs and strokes my hair. “You’re amazing—like a drug. I feel totally buzzed right now. Jesus.”
I blush.
“I loved your application, by the way. Best gift I’ve ever gotten.” He smirks. “And utterly diabolical of you, I must say—brilliant strategic maneuver. I couldn’t resist you after that.”
“So does that mean I’m a shoe-in to get approved for the Josh Faraday Club?”
“Oh, you’re a shoe-in, for sure, baby. Fuck yes. But the approval process takes a bit of time, you should know, so you gotta be patient. I suggest we order some room service while we wait for round two of the review process—that motherfucker Max interrupted my burger and fries and I’m hangry as hell about it.”
I laugh. “Oh, really? Is that how this is gonna go down? You’re just gonna keep fucking me ’til I forget all about your application?”
“Yeah, that’s pretty much the plan.”
“That wasn’t the deal,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “The deal was you kiss me, you give me the application.”
“No, the deal was I kiss you; I fuck you; I give you the application. I’ve kissed you. I’ve fucked you—and now I’m gonna fuck you again and again (all part of the approval process, baby)—and then I’m gonna give you my application.”
A wave of anxiety floods me. “Josh, you aren’t really gonna try to weasel out of giving it to me, are you?”
He flashes me a megawatt smile. “Of course not. I never go back on my word. That’s something you should know about me right up front.” He touches my thigh. “My promise is ironclad.”
I exhale in relief.
“Don’t worry, PG, the review process will continue only as long as we’re in this hotel room together. Just give me this little bubble of time to fuck you without that shit hanging over my head—and when we leave this hotel room, the review process will be complete, your membership will be approved, and that stupid application will be all yours.”
I make a face.
“Aw, come on, PG. I kiss you; I fuck you; I give you my application. That was the deal. Remember? You said kissing you would lead to immediate fuckery. I’m just taking you at your word.”
I glare at him. I’m not sure that was the deal. But sex with Josh is so freakin’ good, I’m not feeling the urge to argue with him.
“Don’t fight me on it, baby, just enjoy the ride.” He snickers. “YOLO, right? Wasn’t that the super-cool thing you told me to say as much as possible?”
I roll my eyes.
“YOLO, Kat. YOOOOOOOLO.”
With that, he pulls the condom off his dick, slaps my ass yet again, and heads into the bathroom—giving me my first ever view of his beautiful bare ass... which, much to my shock (and squealing delight), is stamped across its left cheek with four tiny, but unmistakable, letters.
Thirty-Five
Kat
“What the fuckity, Josh? You didn’t feel the slightest urge to mention the ‘YOLO’ tattoo on your ass cheek when I was going on and on about how ‘YOLO’ tattoos are social suicide?”
We’re sitting in our underwear on Josh’s bed, macking down on double cheeseburgers, fries, and Moscow mules from room service, laughing hysterically and involuntarily wiggling our bodies to the beat of the disco song blaring on Josh’s laptop (“You Dropped a Bomb on Me” by The Gap Band, which Josh says is now his official theme song).
“How the heck did you manage to keep quiet about your tattoo? That must have taken Herculean willpower.”
“Meh, I figured it’d be best for you to find out about it exactly the way you did—by seeing my ass in all its glory after I’d fucked you.” He smiles wickedly. “So much more fun than just telling you about it. Am I right?” He chomps a French fry.
I laugh. “Why the hell do you have ‘YOLO’ stamped on your ass cheek, Josh? It’s inexcusable. Seriously, if I had any self-respect whatsoever, I’d grab my shit and go.”
He laughs. “I lost a bet.” He takes a big bite of his burger.
“What?” I shriek.
“I lost a bet,” he mumbles, his mouth full of burger.
“Well, what was the freaking bet?”
He finishes chewing. “See, that’s the thing. I don’t remember exactly.”
“What?” I shriek. “You got ‘YOLO’ tattooed onto your ass-cheek and you don’t even know why?”
“Well, I know why—generally speaking. The bet was over a quote from Happy Gilmore. I just can’t remember which quote we were arguing over.”
I smack my forehead with my palm. “Please tell me you’re kidding. You got YOLO inked onto your ass over a quote from Happy Gilmore?”