His to Own (The Rowdy Johnson Brothers #3) Read Online Tory Baker

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic Tags Authors: Series: The Rowdy Johnson Brothers Series by Tory Baker
Advertisement1

Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40206 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 201(@200wpm)___ 161(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
<<<<12341222>43
Advertisement2


That’s all it takes. My body is no longer mine to command. There’s no control. There’re only thick white ropes of cum jetting out of my dick and coating my stomach and hand. I make a promise to myself: no more jacking off thinking about Juniper. The next time I come, it’s going to be with her here in my bed.

“Jesus.” I attempt to open my eyes after finishing myself off only to lower my lids immediately. The sun shining through the window is enough to cause sweat to coat my skin, my head to throb, and my stomach to revolt. Flashbacks of last night play like a movie trailer behind my eyelids, only it’s more like a ten-second clip. I remember getting to the bar and seeing Trey was belly up to the counter. Shit was a domino effect from there. A bet was a bet. Trey thought he could drink me under the table. Fucking brothers, I swear. We went straight for the liquor instead of our usual of River Pale Ale at The Fillin’ Station. Last night though, I decided to let lose and drink what feels like my weight in Jim Beam. Not my finest night, and I can tell you hanging with your younger brother can only come with choices that have you wincing the morning after.

Whoever lost would be on fence duty at night for the next month, which was a bitch since after you work a full day, you’re essentially on call, too. Especially this time of year when it’s breeding season. Bulls from other pastures and our own like to get out. Fucking is the only damn thing they want, and they’ll do whatever it takes when they see a heifer in heat. Needless to say, I’m not sure who won. The blips of memories swirling around in my head aren’t the greatest. I lift my arm to cover my eyes, and that’s when I smell Juniper yet again.

A memory more clearly comes to light. Of course, my only thought a few moments ago was coming. Now more things are coming to me from last night before another round of shots and beer was drunk. One where I had her in my arms on the dance floor with my knee wedged between her thighs. There was no anger in her eyes. I didn't have to worry about her doing something to injure herself. When I spun Juni around, she gave me a smile I felt in my dick. It didn’t help when her ass rubbed against me either. When the song came to an end, she went her way and I went mine. That must be where her scent is coming from. She’d been wrapped in my arms, and it didn’t take too much persuading either.

Unfortunately, that’s where things get hazy again. Trey ordered round after round, both of us barely able to clink our shot glasses together after round five or six. He was hell bent on doing his best at winning our bet. Fast forward to this morning and I’m at my house, in my bed, and I’ve got no recollection of how I got here.

My phone pinging causes my head to pound. I slap my hand near the nightstand, trying to grab the damn thing as it goes off more than once. I’d place a bet right about now that it’s the family group chat going off. Except the last thing I want to think about is gambling again, especially if there’s alcohol involved. I grab the damn thing, open one eye, and check who’s texting me.

Trey: How are you feeling?

Trey: My head is fucking killing me.

Trey: Lucky bastard, you won the bet and got a ride home from a pretty girl.

Trey: Wake up, asshole.

Trey: Man, you don’t need your beauty sleep. I’m the one who lost the bet.

Trey would annoy me, if not for the good mood I’m in. He’s always sending a series of texts that could have been managed in one message.

Me: Just getting up. You must be in better shape than I am.

I smirk, not sure how he lost the bet considering my memories aren’t all too clear. The time on the phone tells me I’ve overslept. Breakfast will long be put away and I’m gonna get all kinds of shit for being late on weekend chores. My body protests when I sit up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed, and my fucking stomach revolts.

Trey: Not fucking hardly. Get your ass up.

Trey: I’m bringing breakfast. Be there in ten.

Great, now I’ve gotta grab a shower, clean my room, and try to figure out how the fuck I got home last night. I know Trey well enough, though. He’ll make me ask twenty-one questions and talk the damn thing to death. It’s going to be a long-as-hell day, that’s for sure.


Advertisement3

<<<<12341222>43

Advertisement4