Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
“Yeah,” I breathe out.
“Do you think you’d be into something like that?”
I run my hand along the back of my neck as I hold my paper plate with my other hand. “I don’t know. But this isn’t about what I’d be into. This is about learning everything we can about BDSM.”
She blinks up at me, and the way the sun shines off her auburn hair, making it look a whole shade lighter, makes my chest ignite in flames.
She’s downright fuckable today.
I know I shouldn’t be having these thoughts, but damn, she’s fucking hot.
Jealousy rages through me when that motherfucker who was eyeing her earlier walks up to us and tells her she’s the prettiest woman here today.
It pisses me off that I didn’t tell Hartford first that she was the prettiest woman here today. She’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.
Hartford blushes, and more rage rushes through my veins. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, thanks buddy for stating the obvious,” I say, stepping closer to Hartford.
“Name’s Bryan. You’d be perfect for a scene I’m looking to try out.”
Is this dude for real?
Before Hartford can respond, I cut in, “No thanks, we’re a package deal here.”
Bryan gives me a once over and smiles wide. “You can play too,” he says.
“I don’t share,” I say. I grew up with four brothers, so I don’t share well. Especially Hartford.
“I completely understand. If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.” Bryan tips an imaginary hat at Hartford and walks away.
“Asshole,” I breathe out as he leaves.
Hartford nudges into me and turns back to the buffet. “He was nice.”
“He was too forward. I didn’t like him.”
Hartford rolls her eyes with a smirk as she scoops potato salad onto her plate.
I nod at her plate. “You know, they say you shouldn’t eat potato salad at a cookout.”
“Who says that?”
“They,” I shoot back. “Whoever they are. But they say potato salad is the first thing to grow bacteria at cookouts.”
“That’s not true.”
“It’s completely true.”
“Says they?” She gives me a look like she doesn’t believe me.
“It’s a major concern at cookouts.”
Hartford rolls her eyes, still not believing me, but transfers the potato salad back into the container. “There,” she says.
“Classy.” I laugh and scoop the potato salad she just discarded onto my plate.
“Oh my god, you did that because I took it all and you wanted it.”
I shake my head. “Not true.” It’s completely true.
She grabs a fork and stabs at my potato salad. “I’ll just eat all of yours.”
I raise my plate above her head and grin as she tries to reach for it. Sometimes it pays to be six-foot-two and your bestie to be five-foot-four.
“I hate you right now,” she says as she moves down the buffet line to get chicken.
“You don’t hate me.”
She finishes her plate with pasta salad and sighs. “You’re right. As much as I try to hate you, I can’t.”
“You’ll never hate me.” And the thought of Hartford ever truly hating me causes a slight panic to wash over me.
She smiles wide, her real smile, and says, “I could never hate you.”
And her words cause my racing heart to stall out. “I’ll never hate you either. Now let’s eat and talk about sex.”
The rest of the community munch was interesting to say the least. We both learned a lot and decided the first thing we’ll try is public play. Once we learned what it entails, we felt this would be right up our alley. Hartford and I love having our inside jokes that are a mystery to everyone else.
Public play is similar to that. It’s basically doing things in public where only we know about it.
Natalie came up with a few ideas that Hartford wrote in her notebook. After some discussion, there was only one that Hartford was down to try. A remote-controlled vibrator. And guess which lucky bastard gets to control the remote? Yep, me.
To say I’m overly excited is an understatement.
“You missed the ramp to get on the interstate,” Hartford says as I keep my Jeep headed toward downtown Saint Pierce.
“Sorry, I have to drop off a slim keg and a tap handle at Club Greed.”
Hartford turns in her seat to face me. “The Club Greed?” Her voice is high-pitched as she asks the question. “We’re going to Club Greed?”
I catch her wide eyes for a second before looking back at the road. “Relax, they’re not open. I said I’d drop by with the tap handle and a slim keg of Horny Goat IPA from Bearded Goat Brewery.”
“Your cousin’s brewery?”
“Yeah, Ellis and Urban brewed this beer by mistake, and it’s become this phenomenon, with its own cult following. They stopped brewing it to keep it special, so now it’s a rare beer that everyone wants to get their hands on. Callum wants to do the same thing for Atta Boy.”