Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
I reach for his zipper, but he grabs my hands and holds them behind my back while he again attacks my mouth, plunging his tongue down my throat.
“Do it,” I mutter against his lips.
He pulls back slightly. Green eyes sizzling with lust. “Do what?”
“Ask me to get on my knees.”
I feel him tremble against me. He doesn’t speak, just watches me with that tortured gaze, his breathing labored.
“Ask me to get on my knees,” I repeat, as my hand drifts between our bodies to capture his zipper again. “Ask me to make you come.”
This time, he lets me drag his fly down.
He exhales. Slow, ragged. Then he whispers the words I’m waiting for.
“On your knees, Lawson.” He groans softly. “Make me come.”
Smiling, I sink down to the floor. Where’s the fun in going to hell if you can’t bring a few friends, right?
If only Silas could appreciate the virtue of occasional sin. I have no idea who he thinks he’s impressing with his practically ancient ideas of purity. I’ve never seen someone so desperately in need of mushrooms. And an orgy.
“Two weeks from denial to the D. Might be a new record,” I tell Silas when I get back to our dorm room later than usual.
He sits at his desk with his laptop, doing homework. “You didn’t really fuck him.”
“Not yet.” Though I can’t imagine it’ll be long now before he’s shoving his hand down my pants while gasping against my ear, telling me how wrong it is. Whatever gets him off. “Let’s just say Gwen must be able to dislocate her jaw, because—”
“Yeah, okay. You saw a dick today. I get it.”
“Aww, babe.” I’m worn out and drop onto the sofa. “What’s wrong? Amy still not shaving her pussy for nudes?”
“Fuck off, asshole.” He flings a pencil that narrowly misses my head and leaves a tiny hole in the leather.
“Christ. All right. So touchy.”
“You can’t be so reckless.”
“Can and will,” I say cheerfully, at which point I remember the snack I’d been saving. I pull off the broken leg of the coffee table and dump out a baggy with two pretty little Vicodin inside.
“Dude, what the hell?” Silas jerks out of his chair. “Tomorrow’s the first swim meet.”
“Yeah, and I need some recovery.” I stretch out on the couch and put a pillow under my head.
“What if they pull you for a drug test?”
“Don’t sweat it. I’ve got the inside track. No surprises.”
One of the first lessons I learned about competing: all the top athletes have moles inside the testing authority. At every level. In every sport. It’s laughably easy to dodge a piss test with the proper connections and motivation.
“You should take one of these,” I tell him, holding a pill out on the tip of my finger. “You need to relax.”
“Whatever.”
Huffing away with his little tantrum, Silas tears his white button-down shirt off and throws his tie on his desk. I spare a look over the arm of the couch to watch him strip in front of his closet, catching the full-frontal in the mirror while he throws on a pair of lounge pants and a T-shirt.
“What the hell do I know, right?” he says before shoving on a pair of headphones and kicking back on his bed with a book. “Knock yourself out.”
I place the pills on my tongue and swallow. “Already there.”
Chapter 36
RJ
The pool looks smaller with spectators in the bleachers. In the air is a hum of noise, the sounds of six other schools clustered around the pool while swimmers take warm-up laps. There’s an anxious, politely hostile aura permeating the building. I catch glances aimed my way. Predators lurking in the shadows, sizing me up. Wondering who’s the new guy and does he have teeth. Our first meet of the season has arrived and it finally dawns on me what I’ve gotten myself into. This isn’t a joke anymore. There are nine other guys determined to walk out of here victorious and they’re relying on me to hold up my end of the bargain. Which frankly has me questioning their judgment. I wouldn’t want to be on a team that would have me as a member.
Nevertheless, here I am.
“Has anyone ever jumped in and immediately forgotten how to swim?” Carter asks Silas, flashing a sarcastic wink at me when he climbs out of the water.
Silas is probably the best we have on our team, the one who makes it look easy. Carter is proof money can’t buy functioning chromosomes.
“We all get jitters.” Silas gives me an elbow nudge. Maybe because he sees the oncoming headlights reflected in my eyes. “You’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, I know.” He doesn’t need to hear about the dream I had last night where I lost every last wit about me and started doggy paddling through the relay.
“Glad I swim before you.” Behind us, Carter is doing these obnoxious breathing exercises. Huffing out air like he’s in labor. “Not swimming through fifty meters of puke.”