Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 94457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
“For someone so adamant on only having one glass, you sure did drink that fast.”
“Shut up,” I growl.
Quinton doesn’t say anything and instead fills my glass once more. I take the cup and sit on the edge of the bed, trying to block out his presence. Then it occurs to me. What if he’s going to try to do something I don’t like, something like… anal? He mentioned it the last night we fucked, that my ass was next, and we won’t even mention the fact that he fucked me there with his thumb. The mere thought makes me drink more, and I find myself guzzling the wine in my glass down like it’s water and I’ve just run a mile in Death Valley.
“Slow down, captain, or you’ll get yourself drunk.”
I don’t dare tell him that’s what I want, what I need if he thinks he’s going to put his cock in my ass. I’ll let him do a lot of things, but I’m not letting him do that, at least without me being incoherent in some way.
“I’m an adult, not a kid. This isn’t my first time drinking alcohol.”
“You’re really fucking feisty tonight.” Quinton slams down onto the bed, sitting beside me. His paper cup is long forgotten, though the bottle of wine is still in his hand. My thoughts drift, and warmth settles deep in my gut, working its way outward and into my limbs.
Is the wine already taking effect on me? God, I hope so.
Q leans into my side, and I swear I can feel his feral rage. “Keep up the attitude, and I’ll have you on your knees again, my cock jammed into your pussy so far you won’t know where I start, and you stop.”
I shiver and take another drink. Quinton smirks and fills my glass once more. With each drink I take, my body starts to feel heavier, and after a while, my brain becomes foggy. Without realizing it, I lean into Quinton’s side, my head resting on his shoulder. Suddenly, I can’t keep myself sitting up straight, which isn’t a bad thing if he still plans to have sex with me.
“How are you feeling?” Q’s deep voice rumbles in my ears.
A hiccup slips past my lips, and I wish I could stop myself from saying what I do next. “You have a really nice voice. Has anyone ever told you that?”
Steadying me, he replies, “No, I don’t believe anyone ever has. They’ve told me I have a really nice cock, though.”
“You’re so full of yourself.” I shove off the bed and stumble forward. I’ve been drunk before, but this feels different.
“I bet you wish you were full of something,” Quinton murmurs.
He snakes an arm around my waist and tugs me back toward the bed. I fall backward, my flailing limbs and body landing on top of him in a heap. Oh, god, this is where he tells me he wants to fuck my ass—the entire reason I’ve drunk as much as I have.
My stomach churns, and my skin feels flush. “What do you want?” The words come out in a slur, and I don’t recognize my own voice. The room is spinning, and I lean into Quinton’s body to make it stop.
“Everything, but right now, I want to know more about Brittney. Who is she? Why are you such good friends?”
“I already told you why. She’s nice to me. She lets me stay in the library and hide out from everyone. She also has books in the library.”
“Books in the library? You don’t say?” Quinton mocks, making me giggle. “So, you hide out in the library with your books.”
He dips his head, burying his face in the crook of my neck, and starts nibbling on my skin there.
“Mm-hmm, we hide out together. I hide from you, and she hides from Phoenix,” I mumble, rubbing my back against Q’s chest as his arms tighten around my body.
“You don’t have to hide from me,” Q whispers into my hair.
“Just from everyone else then?” He doesn’t have a response for that. We both know it’s true.
Time ticks by slowly, and Quinton holds me in his arms for a bit before moving us around and placing me on the mattress. I lay immobile, staring up at him. Watching and waiting for him to do something even though all he does is pull the blankets back and cover me up.
He’s pulling away from me, and I need something to tether us together, something to bring him back.
“What happened to her… your sister…Adela.” The words pass my dry lips with ease.
He stops and drops the covers onto my stomach. The look on his face is a mixture of both pain and sadness.
“What do you mean, what happened?”
I yawn, the wine having obviously made me tired as well. “Where was she at the founders’ ball? I didn’t see her.”