Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 129955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
I laugh and lean into him, kissing him again. “Good,” I murmur. “And for the record. I kinda can’t get enough of you too.”
CHAPTER 31
My tongue rolls over my black-painted lips as a smug grin stretches across my face. I don’t know how the fuck I got myself into this situation, but damn it, I think I like it.
The second Cruz piped up with that gorgeous little face of his and suggested a party, I was all in. Though those four giant assholes forgot to mention that the party was the grand eighteenth that I’d missed out on last month, and the idea of telling me that the party was themed just happened to slip their minds.
Fucking twat-monsters. I should have known when they failed to mention it all week that it was going to bite me in the ass. How the hell was I supposed to know that I was about to be the host of a BDSM themed birthday party?
Fuck me. Tonight is going to be all sorts of interesting.
My gaze sweeps over my black latex bodysuit that cuts in under my tits and pushes them up, making them look at least three sizes bigger than what they are. There are leather straps and buckles all over my body, and I have to admit, the whole BDSM thing is starting to intrigue me. I get why they do it now. These outfits are fucking hot. The only downfall is that it just took me nearly an hour to get into it. Though, I don’t think I could ever get down with ball gags and shit like that. There’s nothing better than being able to scream out your man’s name and let him know just how much you’re loving what he’s putting down.
I make my way across my room and drop down on the edge of my bed before groaning as I lean forward to pull on my thigh-high black stiletto boots. They go perfectly with my outfit, but actually reaching my legs to pull my boots up, is so much harder than I ever expected it to be. I’m glad I decided to get ready early. Otherwise, I would have had King and Cruz up here trying to get me into the damn thing. Though hopefully when it comes down to taking it off, I’ll have one of them by my side, or hopefully both.
I get to my feet, grinning at my reflection and how my boots perfectly complete my outfit. I look like one of those badass assassin bitches on the cover of a killer urban fantasy book, but nothing compares to when I grab the whip off my dresser and slip it through one of the straps by my hip. I mean, if I’m going to go to this party, then I’m going to do it right. What sexy BDSM chick wouldn’t come fully equipped with accessories? I just hope I don’t feel the urge to pee halfway through this party. Otherwise, I’m fucked.
My hair is up in its signature high pony and my lips are jet black, add the mascara, eye shadow, and liner, and I think I’m just about ready.
“Winter?” I hear hollered through the big house. “Are you fucking ready yet or what?”
I groan, rolling my eyes at Carver’s insistent hollering. It’s been going on for the past ten minutes. If the boys weren’t down there with him, I’m sure he’d already be up here, dragging me down by one of my straps. “It’s my party and I’ll be fucking late if I want.”
I hear his irritated grunt as Cruz tries to coax him to relax, and just for being an ass, I pick up my black lipstick and go for another unnecessary touch-up. Once I’ve thoroughly irritated Carver, I grab the kitty-cat ears off my dresser and slip them over my head. You know, just to tone down the level of skanky-whore that’s exuding out of me.
Deciding that I’m finally ready, I grab my phone, keys, and cigarettes before realizing that I have absolutely nowhere to put them.
I groan and throw them back down. I guess tonight I’m without my vices. I make my way out of my room, my stiletto boots clicking against the marble floors and letting the boys know that I’m on my way, but the thought of my vices has my hand instinctively curling into a fist, only to remember that my brass knuckles are still not there.
Hitting the top stair, I put it to the back of my mind and focus on not falling to my death. How is it that I can usually kick ass in these shoes, but tonight, I feel like a kid trying on her first pair of heels? What the hell is wrong with me?
I grip the railing and as I start making my way down the stairs, I hear a soft gasp and glance up to find the four boys standing in the foyer, watching me make my way down like a scene out of a fairy-princess movie, only instead of glitter and a gown, I have whips and latex.