Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“I wonder if he’s good in bed,” one of them muses. “Just because he has the equipment doesn’t mean he knows how to use it.”
“Please.” Sierra scoffs. “Of course he does.”
I jerk against his hold once more as hurt morphs into anger. Anger is good. Much better than feeling sad. Jesse tightens his hold, bringing his lips close to my ear. “Just listen,” he says, his voice soft, almost apologetic. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me by making me hear this shit.
“And Jesse doesn’t care that you’re going for his friend?” This is from another voice I don’t recognize.
I freeze in Jesse’s hold, realization setting in. They’re not talking about him. When he senses me soften, I feel Jesse’s smile against my neck. The stretched-out collar of my oversized shirt hangs loosely off one shoulder, and he skims his lips back and forth on my exposed skin.
“Once he sees someone else playing with his toy, he’ll want it back.” She laughs.
“No, he won’t,” Jesse argues low in my ear. His hand leaves my mouth, trailing down toward the hem of my shirt. I stiffen, but don’t object as he reaches under, softly stroking my thigh before cupping me between my legs. “I have exactly what I want in the palm of my hand.”
“Where is he, anyway?” one of them asks.
“I don’t know. He said he was going to make a drink, but he never came back out.”
“He found something better to do,” Jesse says while a single finger traces me through my underwear. I gasp, my head falling back onto his shoulder. The sound of “Bad Guy” from Billie Eilish floats in from the back door that they neglected to close as he continues his ministrations. Soft, teasing strokes, enough to drive me crazy, but not enough to get me off.
“He’s probably hooking up with that girl upstairs,” one girl jokes. She has no idea how close to the truth she is.
“Ew, Allison? Please. That frigid bitch couldn’t handle him—”
“She feels nice and warm to me,” Jess counters, slipping his fingers beneath my underwear. I gasp at his touch. “Wet, too.” His voice grows thick. “So fucking wet.”
“Jesse, we shouldn’t—”
“She’s way too uptight,” Sierra continues, and her minions laugh on cue. Jesse slides a finger inside me, causing me to gasp again.
“Uptight? Nah. Tight? Very.”
A moan slips free from the back of my throat and my eyes pop open, hoping to hell no one heard.
“Shut up,” Sierra hisses sharply. “Did you hear that?”
“Hurry up and make the drinks. He said his sister and her boyfriend are upstairs.”
I let out the breath I was holding when I hear them clanking around in the fridge. Jesse spins me around, my back hitting the wall with a soft thud. His wet hair hangs down on his forehead and his black swim shorts are damp, but his plain white tee is dry. I catch myself pouting at the knowledge that he was in the hot tub with those girls, even if nothing happened, but then he’s lifting me up, my legs wrapping around his waist, before prowling toward the hall bathroom. He kicks the door shut, not bothering to be quiet, and then his mouth is on mine.
My hands fly into his wet hair, too wound up to maintain any semblance of playing it cool. Jesse flips us around so that my back is pressed up against the door. Using it for leverage along with his hips, he slides both hands up my sides until he’s cupping me through my shirt, flicking my nipples with the pads of his thumbs.
“Jesse,” I breathe, trying not to push my chest into his hands, unable to put my thoughts into words, so I settle with, “Please.” Please don’t stop. Please don’t walk away. Please make me feel good.
“I’m not fucking leaving this time, Allie,” Jesse rasps, reading my mind as he flexes his hips into me.
“Good.”
He dips down to kiss my neck, pushing my shirt up in the process, but I stop his wandering hands with mine as a thought occurs to me. “Wait.”
“What?” he says into my neck in between licks and kisses.
“I don’t want you to touch her if we’re doing this.”
“Fuck her,” he says, going back in for more. I arch my neck, my head falling against the door.
“I mean it, Jesse. Her or anyone else. When you’re done with me, tell me first.” I try to sound firm, but I sound vulnerable, even to my own ears and I hate it.
He pulls back, hazel eyes lifting to mine, regarding me with something I can’t quite put my finger on. My stomach swirls with nerves, waiting for his response. I bite down on my lip, feeling completely exposed under his scrutiny, unsure of what’s going through his mind—of what he’s going to say—but he shocks me when he says, “Same goes for you.”