Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Then I did it again.
And again.
I felt the shame all over again when I woke up this morning with a raw dick and a mess of lace still tangled in my hand.
“If you aren’t ashamed, why haven’t you told your best friend? Women are supposed to break your cocks not your hearts.”
“What about his cock?” Quinten asks, an eyebrow raised, and it makes me wonder if he’s just now getting invested in our conversation or if he heard the whole damn thing.
“I was giving him brand suggestions for cock pumps,” Wren says, slapping my thigh before standing.
“And that would be?” Brooks asks.
“They’re all pretty equal. It’s the lube you use that really matters.” Wren walks away, leaving me with a million things to think about.
Am I ashamed?
Am I as okay with being used and using Parker as I’ve tried to convince myself that I am?
Is my heart getting tangled up in this just because she was my first?
She’s gorgeous, too, my conscience reminds me.
And her pussy—
I jerk when my phone chimes, drawing me out of those thoughts.
“Hot date?” Quinten asks, eyes still suspicious as I stand.
“Deacon,” I tell him, turning my phone around for proof.
“We need to talk when you’re done.” It sounds more like a threat than anything else.
“Maybe he doesn’t have to tell you everything,” Brooks says, and when I look at him, he’s still staring down into his coffee cup. “Or maybe he wants to say things, and you just make it too hard for him to open his mouth. Maybe the expectations are set too high, or he’s confused. Maybe everything he thought he knew is—”
“What?” Quinten says.
“Hmm?” Brooks looks up from his cup, confusion on his face.
Jesus, what is he going through that he’s talking to himself without even realizing it?
“Maybe a longer nap and no caffeine for a few days, huh?” Quinten says.
I walk away while I still have the chance. After my talk with Deacon and completing the requisition form for the new CBRNs, I make myself scarce, slipping into my office unnoticed and sitting in the dark until I know the coast is clear before taking the exit to the stairs rather than risk running into Quinten near the elevator.
We do need to talk. I have so many questions, and although the man isn’t in a relationship now because he can’t or isn’t willing to pull the trigger on whatever he feels for Hayden, he’s had relationships in the past. He’s had casual sex. He probably knows a thing or two. He could offer advice.
But there’s the possibility that he’ll urge me to walk away, to not answer the next time Parker knocks on my door, and not only do I not have the power to do that, I don’t think I’d want to leave her standing in the hall… fully dressed… ready to teach me things.
I don’t realize just how much trouble I’m really in until the thoughts when I get home are more about wishing she was there to greet me with a smile rather than dropping to her knees and finishing the blow job she started last night and didn’t finish.
Wren was talking about my heart being in danger, but the problem is that I think it already is.
I go jack off into her panties one more time just to get a little control back.
Chapter 14
Parker
“Another?” I ask the scowling man.
He gives me the same sneer he did a little over a week and a half ago the first time I saw him.
“I’ll ask when I want something from you.”
I give him a curt nod, doing my best to maintain a smile, but I’m struggling right now. I hate this guy, and I don’t even know him. He’s been the only one to bring me down from the amazing mood I’ve been in since leaving Jude’s condo a week ago.
“Just like a whore to try to force herself on someone who isn’t interested in what she’s offering.”
Both of my eyebrows hit my hairline before I can stop it from happening.
“Excuse me?”
“Fuck off, you little bitch. Let me drink in peace.”
I dart away, my hands shaking, so angry I know I’m seconds away from reaching across the bar and smacking some damn manners into him. His ability to make me so mad says a lot, because I’m the type of girl that would normally roll my eyes, come back with an even snarkier remark, and laugh the whole time doing it.
People normally don’t have the ability to pull this much frustration from me, but this guy seems to be an expert.
I busy myself on the other end of the bar, making drinks and smiling even though a little bit of my light has been dimmed already. I’m only twenty minutes into my shift, the jerk on the other end having already been here when I arrived. The computer shows three pours of his choice of scotch rang up in the last hour and a half, and it tells me he’s probably well on his way to being plastered.