Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“Asking?”
“No thanks.” I spin around and refocus on the kitchen.
“It’s a madhouse in there. Take mine.” A red cup appears right in front of my face.
He’s cute, maybe twenty-one tops, but the cockiness of just expecting me to take his drink is exactly what I’m looking for. The other thrill I’m seeking is evident on his face.
“I’m hoping for something a little stronger.”
His grin widens as he lifts his other arm showcasing a half-empty bottle of tequila.
“Even stronger than that.” I brush my fingers under my nose, and it’s all it takes for him to understand.
“I got just what you need, baby.” Isn’t he adorable with the pet names? “Follow me.”
Anticipating going to a quieter part of the house, I’m shocked when he tells a few guys to move before plopping down on the sofa in the middle of the living room. The cup of beer and bottle of tequila drop down on the table, and he’s pulling out a vile of coke before I can plant my ass down beside him.
My mouth is watering by the time he dumps the contents out on a magazine and scrapes it into three lines. He produces a rolled-up dollar bill from thin air, much the same way he did with the cup of beer earlier.
“Ladies first.” Taking it from his hand, I give him a coquettish smile.
“Such a gentleman.” His wicked ‘just you wait’ smile betrays his chivalrous actions.
“Let me help you,” he says as I lean down and swipe the bill across two lines. His hand sweeps my hair from my face.
His anger in me taking liberties with more than one line is evident in the punishing grip of his fingers tangled in my hair. He doesn’t relent as I lift my head and bring the back of my fingers to my nose.
“You’re a greedy little girl, aren’t you?” I want to huff at his little girl comment, but the glorious burn from the coke is subsiding and numbing my throat.
His tongue licks at his lips, and I’m cognizant enough to notice he’s a handsome guy. One I’m certain many girls around here would willingly let him do anything he pleases to them, but that kind of thrill isn’t his game. He’s made a mistake if he thinks I’m going to say no or tell him to stop. I never do. Playing victim isn’t part of my adventures. I don’t imagine he’d pump the brakes anyway. As far he’s concerned, he just paid for my time and bought himself a little extra considering I snorted a line he’d intended for himself.
“You want the last one?”
His tongue licks up the side of my neck, and an uncontrollable shiver runs down my spine. This is the best part, knowing, even though he’s good-looking, I’m not attracted to him in any way.
“A drink first,” I whisper loud enough for him to hear and hope I can use the tequila to choke down the bile quickly rising in my throat. The thrill of the fear, of the unknown, of the possibility that this asshole could finally be the one to cause lasting damage is putting my fight or flight through its paces.
“There’s my girl,” he praises, raising the bottle to my lips and pouring the warm liquid down my throat. Releasing my hair for the first time, he nudges my shoulder when my eyes drift closed and angles his head toward the table. “Last line.”
He smiles with the reminder, not even bothering this time to hide the sinister glint in his eyes.
“Who do we have here?” a new voice asks.
The sofa shifts next to me as I lift and tilt my face to the ceiling to enjoy those first few seconds of the blow hitting the back of my throat. The bass pounding through the amateur sound system rattles and pops, leaving the beat and words of the song undecipherable, but I’m high enough to imagine my own music in my ears. My swaying is interrupted when a hand falls on each of my knees. I’d laugh at them for starting so far away, but I’m more concerned that I misjudged the red solo cup guy.
“So frisky,” I giggle and bat the first guy’s hand away to test him. Guy number two is circling my inner thigh with the tip of one single finger, but at least he’s made it under the hem of my skirt.
“No stopping me now,” red solo cup mutters as he clasps my wrist and forces my hand down between us. His hand lands on my knee again but moves quickly up my thigh.
The fear of him being too nice is replaced by the uneasiness his aggression has caused. I close my eyes and revel in the pounding of blood in my ears. Combined with the coke, my heart is on overload.