Total pages in book: 200
Estimated words: 189898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 760(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 189898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 760(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
“Today, Lo.”
With three more hard pumps and a grunt as he came, Loren obliged Houston without argument. He stayed inside her a few seconds longer, kissing her lips and whispering how much he loved her in between before pulling away.
Braxton didn’t react as he knew she wouldn’t.
I could see the frustration in Loren’s eyes as he fixed his clothes, but he said nothing.
Houston had already turned Braxton around and stolen her attention. He shed her leather jacket, letting it fall to the ground. The thin straps of her dress were next. Houston slipped them off her shoulders and let her dress fall, too, baring her completely as if we weren’t in the middle of a fucking club.
“Houston,” I scolded, unable to hide my apprehension.
Had we gone too far?
Ignoring me, Houston gripped Braxton’s breasts in both of his palms, and together, they moved deeper into the shadows until they were completely shrouded as they kissed.
Not even I could see what they were doing.
I knew the moment he began fucking her, though.
As Loren casually leaned against the wall, I drank in every one of Braxton’s incoherent cries and Houston’s harsh grunts as he fucked her like it was their last time. He rode her hard, and she took everything he gave.
It seemed to go on forever, and at the same time, not long enough.
“Oh, Houston,” she told him.
“Fuck, Braxton,” he told her.
Their choked gasps were the last thing Loren and I heard before it stopped. It was a couple more minutes before Houston led Braxton back out of the shadows with a hand on her waist as he kept her upright and steady. Her hair had fallen from her ponytail, and she was already bearing the marks from their attention. I don’t know how she expected to hide what she’d done from her friends, but our mission was accomplished.
I could see our victory building in her eyes.
The capitulation.
Her inevitable surrender.
And my permanent undoing.
Almost there.
Loren turned to me and lifted a brow.
“You don’t want a turn?” he asked as he lazily chewed a stick of gum.
I saw Braxton shiver at his tone and his question. She only liked being treated like our possession when her clothes were off and her inhibitions were down. If he’d tried it any other time, he’d be on the ground holding his balls.
My throat bobbed as I swallowed the desire that made my mouth water. “Not this time,” I whispered as I reached out and brushed her naked nipple with my thumb. “I think we need to have that talk first, right?”
I took my gaze off her breasts for the beauty of her brown eyes.
Braxton nodded eagerly, and I could see her gratitude for my restraint. She wasn’t strong enough to turn me down right now, and I didn’t want her hating herself in the morning. Regret was not what I needed her to feel whenever she thought of me.
I thought about our kiss earlier, and she must have thought of it too.
Rising on her tiptoes, Braxton planted one on my cheek. “Thank you for understanding,” she whispered before settling on her heels again.
I simply nodded as I looked away so she wouldn’t see my hidden thoughts.
Enjoy it while it lasts.
Paris.
I was in Paris.
I inhaled a nervous breath and slowly exhaled the brine. When that didn’t work, I started to fidget, adjusting the wig I wore that was long, layered, black with blue ombre, and had side bangs covering my right eye.
Going with the flow, I’d lined my eyes heavily with black liner and clipped the faux silver piercings to my nose and lip. I completed the look picked out for me with fishnet stockings, black jeans with holes in the knees, and a cropped tee.
Seeing my reflection now in one of the seventeen large mirrors made from three hundred and fifty smaller mirrors, I knew without a doubt who’d left the disguise.
The handwritten note asking to meet here and at this time made it clear too. I’d woken up this morning to both waiting for me inside my hotel suite at the foot of my bed that I’d slept in alone.
And now I waited with butterflies in my stomach for him to arrive.
It’s been two weeks since Berlin.
Two guilt-ridden weeks since the club and the sex that I wouldn’t allow myself to think about, but somehow, I always managed to think only about it. Houston and Loren had shamelessly poured their frustration into me while Jericho watched. They made me not just see but feel how much they needed me. I needed them too, but it wasn’t the same.
This wasn’t hiding fear and apprehension behind cruelty like before.
They’d lied to me.
How do we come back from that? How do I learn to trust them again? I keep waiting for some sign that may never come. And if it didn’t, what did that mean?