Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
I frowned. Goddamit. What was with this line of questioning now, of all times?
“I’ll bring her soon, Ma. Promise,” was my surly grunt. In reply, my mother let out an unladylike snort, but I rushed to cut her off. “Listen, I gotta go. My meeting’s about to start.”
“At this time of night?” scolded Rhonda. “It’s nine p.m. on a Saturday! You work too hard, son. It’s important to make time for the good things in life, it’s not just about work.”
I rolled my eyes. How little Rhonda knew.
“I do make time,” I said, exasperated. When—if—Rhonda ever met Beth she’d know how much time I put into the important things.
“Good!” I could hear the smile in her voice, and it made my lips curve grudgingly too. “I’ll let you get back to your big city wheeling and dealing. See you soon, sweetheart!” A kissing noise sounded out over the receiver and then everything went silent with a click.
Damn.
I was really up shit creek.
If my mom knew what I was about to do, she’d have my brains for dinner, eyeballs for dessert.
Shaking my head, I slipped my phone in my jacket pocket and tapped the limo partition. Seconds later, the driver whisked open the door, and I stepped out into the biting New York breeze, wind whipping at my hair.
“Thanks, Rick. Hang close. I won’t be long.”
He nodded silently, shutting the door before pulling out of the circular driveway. A valet greeted me on the front steps of the hotel, marble colonnades soaring into the sky.
“Welcome to The Chateau, sir. We hope you enjoy your stay.” The man bowed subserviently, looking at the ground. Damn. Did they train these people to be slaves, and not just friendly help? Shaking my head, I said nothing, moving forwards.
But yeah, “The Chateau” was pretty crazy. Inside, the setting was magnificent. A triple height lobby, the furniture in plush red and gold. Carpeting that was pristine, despite the fact that this was technically a common space.
But I wasn’t here to dawdle. With quick strides, I made my way to a private elevator subtly placed on the left, and swiped my keycard. Oh yeah. The penthouse suite. Only accessible via one elevator, not available to the public.
And once alone in the cold steel box, I pondered my circumstances again. Fuck! This was so messed up. This goddamn virgin bet was the most fucked-up idea ever. Who thought this up?
With a sinking sensation, I realized the idea had been mine, way back when. It seemed so long ago. What a damned idiot I’d been. If only I could kick my own ass, or somehow transport back into the past and change things.
Because I’d done it.
I’d found a virgin and enticed the girl into showing her all.
Yeah, I had all the evidence at hand. Pictures of her hymen. My notes in my book. Beth’s panties from that night. Even a picture of my cock, with a streak of blood on the left side, unmistakable proof.
But shit.
My jaw clenched.
I couldn’t share it.
I shouldn’t.
Beth was too precious to reveal to these assholes.
Pictures of that steaming virgin flesh? Hell no. That pinkness that belonged only to me.
I’d be desecrating holy territory if I let on.
My sweet female, whom my mother called “a special lady.”
Beth, who wrapped herself around me when we slept, her curves undulating against my hardness.
Beth, whom I loved.
Just then, the elevator dinged at the top floor, shaking me out of my reverie. And the doors whooshed open to a place that could have been a Roman atrium for aristocrats. Marble pillars everywhere, an inlaid gold and turquoise floor, not to mention purple velvet sofas with food spilling from tabletops. Way over the top. But that’s what these assholes are known for.
“Mason!” Reginald shouted out to me when I stepped into the room. His English prep school accent was even more annoying than usual, accentuating the Hugh Grant-floppy hair and bizarre three piece seersucker suit. Really? Man, some guys need a stylist stat.
“Hey,” I growled, none too happy, fingers curling around the drink he shoved in my hand. “Am I the last one?” Of course I was. I glanced at my watch. Nearly an hour had passed since the meeting started.
“You’re fine with time,” he chortled. “We’ve just been relaxing.”
Rex walked up, toasted already.
“Yo brother. You want some blow?” Um, right. Some shit he would do, not me.
So I jerked my head curtly. No need to let on that I was a changed man, different from these depraved assholes. I mean, yeah, I was still depraved, even more so now in fact. But my efforts were focused on one sweet librarian, and not whatever random hooch walked in through the door.
Shooting both guys a fake smile, I slapped Rex on the back.
“Let’s get started then, huh?”
Rex rubbed his hands together.
“Can’t wait, bruh,” he rasped. “Can’t wait.”