Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“Make me come, Asher,” I beg in a voice that I don’t even recognize.
“Gladly.”
His fist around his cock moves faster, and then he’s shoving two fingers inside me as he pulls my clit between his teeth and sucks.
I explode, unable to keep quiet and uncaring of the repercussions, as Asher groans, his own release spilling into the pool.
Chapter 7
Asher
Briar slumps back to the deck, completely boneless, as I hoist myself up and over the edge. I struggle to pull my soaked jeans off, opting to leave my boxers on for now. Through it all, she doesn’t make any move to get up.
Briar’s outstretched arms lie limp at her sides, her bare tits heave, and goose bumps prickle her skin. Her eyes are closed, wet lashes hitting the tops of her cheeks, and her plump lips are parted. My dick jerks, already wanting round two.
Fuck, I need to get it together. This girl is fucking with my head. I don’t know how to feel about her little story about my dad. My initial reaction was to go find a wall to smash my fist through. Not only did she have me sent away and stripped me out of my chance at college, but then she spent time with the person she was so concerned about? John conveniently left that part out. Briar wants to see the good in everyone. That’s just who she is. Was. Fuck, I don’t know anymore. Who knows what lies John filled her pretty little head with, and she probably fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. Not even that could keep me from wanting her, though.
I don’t know why I let Dash and Adrian talk me into going to the East Side tonight. Clubs aren’t my scene, and the whole time all I could picture was Briar’s face when she saw Whitley and me walking out of the bathroom together. Then, I got mad at myself for giving a shit how she felt. Nothing happened—of fucking course, nothing happened because I wouldn’t even touch Whitley with someone else’s dick—but even if I wanted to explain, Dash might wonder why I’m defending myself to his little sister.
The second Whitley showed up, sniffling, bouncing from foot to foot, and talking a mile a minute, I knew she was coked-up. I know because I used to do it with her. So, when she decided to go powder her nose—literally—I followed her and tore her a new asshole for doing that shit here. I honestly don’t know why any of us put up with her anymore. She used to be cool, once upon a time, and like the horny, asshole teenagers that we were, we took advantage of the fact that she threw herself at us. But then, she got into drugs, and while I’m guilty of partaking, it was never a problem for me. Whitley definitely has a problem, and I think we all just feel stuck with her, and tolerate her, like a drunk uncle during the holidays.
Whatever the fuck Briar and I are doing is pointless. There are too many obstacles standing in the way for this to end well. Allowing Briar to believe that I invited her, yet again, or that we hooked up, was my way of ending shit between us. Yet, here I am, scooping her listless body into my arms and carrying her through the house and back to her room right after finding out that her betrayal goes even deeper than I thought. Because I can’t fucking quit her.
I went back to River’s Edge for two weeks to do just that. I took on another job and caught up with Dare and our other friends. I just needed some distance, to recalibrate without Briar inadvertently seducing me at every turn. But the time away has done nothing to dull the attraction. Three years didn’t do it, so it was stupid to think two weeks would suffice.
“What are you doing?” she asks, covering herself with one arm. The other curls around the back of my neck.
“Taking you to bed,” I say, kicking her bedroom door open.
“Are you staying with me?”
I falter, not expecting the question, before looking down at her big blue eyes.
“Do you want me to?”
Briar nods wordlessly, and I lay her down before taking off my boxers. She arches a brow.
“I’m not sleeping in wet clothes,” I explain, and she bites her lip, looking directly at my cock.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I warn.
“Or what?”
“Or else I’ll fuck you again, and this time, I won’t hold back.”
“You’ve been holding out on me?” she asks, a playful lilt to her voice. I groan and climb into bed next to her.
“Don’t tempt me. Go to sleep.”
“Yes, sir,” she mumbles, nuzzling her way under my arm and resting her head on my chest.
“Comfy?” I ask, sarcasm lacing my tone.