Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
There’s a bang at my hotel room door. Eight years ago, when we stayed in dive hotels that housed hookers and random junkies, I would’ve ignored the obnoxious knocks. I’d assume it was some drunk that got the wrong room. We aren’t sleeping at random motels in questionable parts of metropolitan cities anymore. This is the top floor of an establishment where royalty and presidents visit. My feet feel heavy as I stumble in the dark toward the banging. I grip the frigid pewter handle before flinging the door open. There, appearing like both a demon and an angel, Iggy stands before me.
He leans against the doorframe, and his lips turn up into a lopsided smile. He pulls his left hand from his back and twirls my boxers on top of his index finger. “Thought you’d want these back.”
I want the superpower of invisibility, or to have the ground crack open and pull me under into some black hole where nothing and no one could ever find me.
A logical person who knows Ignatius Donnavan would completely grasp that he will take any fucked-up situation and turn it into a Mardi Gras. The only issue is that at this moment my brain is in full-blown panic mode and logic is the last thing I’m capable of.
I open the door wider and gesture for him to come in. “Looks like you did an impeccable job cleaning them.”
Arrogance works well at masking insecurity.
Iggy stares me right in the eye and smirks. “You know what I’m like when on Molly, anything and everything depraved looks and tastes good.”
“You on Molly now?” I ask.
Iggy shakes his head. “Nah, I’m pretty sure it’s worn off.”
“Then why did your dick get hard as soon as I opened the door?”
Here is the major difference between Iggy and I. Had he said those words to me, I would have tucked my tail between my legs and run back to my room. Then I’d have sat in the dark, like I was doing earlier, and contemplated the one thousand different catastrophic situations that would befall me.
Iggy flashes a smile, grips his crotch, and boldly says, “How nice of you to notice.”
Now, what the fuck am I supposed to say to that? I noticed. I noticed so much that I might glue my eyeballs to his dick. There isn’t much I’ve been able to focus on lately other than his dick. Yet, he can’t know that. There is no way in hell I’m admitting to Iggy that all I think about is his warm mouth and that hard dick.
Iggy steps into the room and flings his body on the sofa. He outstretches one leg on the circular blue Valor coffee table. I wonder if he’s aware that he literally provided his dick with a neon frame.
I stand there speechless as Iggy continues to smirk. “How about we watch some porn and take the edge off?”
“It’s almost two a.m. How about you go back to your room and sleep?”
“Party pooper,” Iggy mutters under his breath, before leaning toward the coffee table and lifting the remote.
“I mean it, Iggy. I’m not in the mood to watch a bunch of porn stars.”
Iggy gazes up at me and even in the room's darkness, I can sense something greater than horniness in his eyes. “Can we hang out?”
I’m not sure what hanging out with Iggy is like anymore. Since that night Kaye shut us in a hotel room for days, the tension between us has been so thick that the idea of casually sitting around shooting the shit seems impossible.
“Come on, Marley, we’ve been best friends for almost ten years, we aren’t about to fuck that up ’cause our dicks got the better of us a couple times.”
“It’s been more than twice.”
Iggy chuckles. “Semantics. Fine, a few times. There, is that better?”
A part of me wants to demand Iggy go back to his room, not because I’m tired or don’t yearn for his company. It’s the opposite. The strength of my consuming desire for Iggy has me frightened that one misstep and I’ll flush an eight-year friendship down the toilet. My lungs grasp for breath at the idea that I’ve crossed a line and went too far to the point I’ve ruined the only person who holds me still in a world that turbulently rotates, never allowing me to get a steady footing.
My stomach churns with sickness, and my hands tremble with worry. I look for three things, but I can’t focus on anything to level myself. The only sound I can concentrate on is the screaming in my mind and the erratic, nonstop beating of my heart. The t-shirt against my flesh is more like medieval armor, so heavy that it’s weighing me down. Why can’t I breathe? Jesus, I can’t fuckin’ breathe.
“Marley,” Iggy calls my name, but he sounds far away, not sitting a few feet away from me. “Marley, calm down. Fuck. Marley.”