Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 31300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 157(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 157(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Read Online Books/Novels: | Top Priority (The Game Series #1) |
|---|---|
Author/Writer of Book/Novel: | Cara Dee |
| Language: | English |
| Book Information: | |
In a perfect world, Lucas West would meet someone in one of the BDSM communities he was active in, someone who ached for a Daddy Dom as much as Lucas longed for a Little to care for. They would date, play, build something that was just for them, and share a future together. In a perfect world, Colt Carter would get through his next deployment and then move closer to DC where he could create at least a semblance of a personal life. He wanted something outside of the Air Force, something kinky, something worth leaving everything behind for eventually. For years, he’d kept his inner Sadist and Daddy Dom locked up, only letting him out to play on rare occasions. In a perfect world… In reality, Lucas and Colt met each other. --- Top Priority is the first novella in The Game Series, a BDSM series where romance meets the reality of kink. Sometimes we fall for someone we don’t match with, sometimes vanilla business gets in the way of kinky pleasure, and sometimes we have to compromise and push ourselves to overcome trauma and insecurities. No matter what, two things are certain. This is not a perfect world, and life never turns out the way you planned. | |
| Books in Series: | The Game Series Series by Cara Dee |
| Books by Author: | Cara Dee Books |
One
“Fuck!” I slammed on the brakes and watched in horror as something shattered part of my windshield, creating a spider web in the glass. My car skidded along the highway, and my pulse skyrocketed.
I came to a stop on the side of the road, and I looked behind me to see if there were any cars nearby. Hail kept pounding the roof. Wide gaze trained forward again, I spotted a golf ball-sized chunk of ice stuck in the windshield. I flinched as more ice hit the car. Thunder roared, lightning struck out in the field, and the dark gray sky turned black.
“Jesus Christ.” I blew out a heavy breath and turned on the hazard lights, then sat back and drew my hands through my hair, fisting the short ends. I’d recently cut my hair, and I forgot I couldn’t really tug at it anymore.
A drop of water hit the dashboard. I glared at the broken windshield and killed the engine.
How the hell was I supposed to get out of here now? I could barely look through the window. Either I would have to sink as low as I possibly could in my seat and still duck my head, or I’d have to peer through the glass closer to the middle. One way or another, any driving instructor would fail me.
The storm wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, that much was clear.
I checked my watch and sighed. My heart rate was finally recovering.
Making it home to DC today was officially out of the question.
I couldn’t help but laugh. What a splendid fucking way to end a week that already belonged in hell.
This was… No, I was done. I had no place at my father’s company. Real estate wasn’t for me, even when he’d kindly created a position for me so I could use my marketing degree. I’d been miserable—going nowhere fast—even before this week. Then I’d received the assignment to fill in for a coworker who was sick. It’d been straightforward enough. Go down to Georgia, mainly the Atlanta area, and meet with the higher-ups at an agency about a possible merger. Three real estate agencies along the East Coast were joining forces.
That had been the plan. After nine disastrous meetings, I couldn’t in good conscience recommend my father go through with the merger. The peachy state of Georgia would take us all down, with properties in bad school districts, straight-up shacks, and unsellable swampland. Meanwhile, my father was selling townhouses in Georgetown, and the Philadelphia agency raked in millions in the townships along the Main Line.
I huffed in frustration and loosened my tie, hungry, irritated, beyond tired, and uncomfortable.
The hailstorm was finally passing, leaving the thunder and pouring rain behind. Rain, I could handle.
I couldn’t stay out here in the middle of nowhere, though. No other car had passed me, so I supposed I was the only stupid one around.
All right, time to get out of here. Time to get wet. I braced myself and stepped out of the car, the rain immediately whipping me in the face. The heat was returning too. It’d been cooler at my last stop, not as humid, but I could feel it now. A cold gust of wind met a humid one. Summer was coming in fast.
Leaning over the windshield, I tried to pinch the chunk of ice— “For the love of God!” I growled. What the fuck was wrong with me? Why had I not just pushed the thing out from inside the car? Why was I out here?
Instantly infuriated, I wiped rain off my face and dug out the ice from the windshield, and then I hurried back into the car.
As I started the engine, I was met by a cold blast of the AC, not to mention the next “What’s wrong with me?” moment.
Now the rain was coming in, goddammit.
“Fuck my life,” I gritted out, gripping the wheel at ten and two.
Two miles to Richmond.
Pulling out from the side of the road, I leaned toward the center console to be able to see the highway. I crept up the deserted road at twelve miles an hour, and still, not a single soul passed me. Saturday in the South. Everyone was at home enjoying a warm supper.
I remembered my way down to Georgia… I remembered the gas station in Richmond where all the Greyhound buses had rolled through. I remembered seeing all the auto shops as I’d filled up on gas. It wasn’t too far away from where I was now, so that was where I would go.
Hell, I hoped they hadn’t closed for the storm. It was a big one. I’d heard them talking about it on the radio, though it hadn’t even registered that I’d be smack-dab in the middle of it. All I’d seen was the image of my bed, coming home, showering off this godforsaken week, and then ordering a pizza.