Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
We passed through the kitchen and onto a back porch decorated with Christmas lights and old street signs.
Wolf sat at a rickety card table surrounded by girls, and the second Bellamy stopped beside it, the attention of every girl there snapped to me.
“We’re playing never have I ever,” he said, his hand still firmly on mine as he shifted us around the table to an empty chair, promptly pulling me into his lap as though it were the most natural thing in the world. But it wasn’t because everyone knew we were enemies, and this was a very public statement that we absolutely weren’t.
Only I wasn’t sure what we were, so I stiffened, glaring at him. A smirk pulled at his lips, that eyebrow ring hiking in a way that said he knew exactly what he was doing. He took the bottle of tequila from me and set it on the table.
Wolf snatched it, inspecting the bottle. “Holy shit, dude. This is Gran Patron…”
“So?” One of the girls said, shooting daggers in my direction.
“So? It’s like four hundred bucks a bottle.”
She huffed at that, rolling her eyes as she crossed her arms.
“Still just gets you drunk,” I said. And I hated to admit it, but of all the bottles in my dad’s liquor collection, this was probably the cheap stuff.
Wolf placed the bottle back on the table. “Rich-people drunk…”
Bellamy popped the cork from the tequila and passed it to me while Wolf’s gaze pinged between us. Then he shook his head. “Fuck my life, dude. Just fuck it...”
“Fuck yourself, Wolf.” Bellamy settled back in the chair, his hand landing on my bare thigh, burning me. “The rules are, the newest person to the table starts.”
The girls glared at me like they’d slit my throat, given a chance.
“Fine.” I fought a smile. “Never have I ever been arrested.”
Wolf and Bellamy both drank. Bellamy glared at me as he took a swig.
“Never have I ever gotten off to the thought of someone at this table,” he said. The bottle was already to his lips before he’d finished his sentence, his gaze boring into mine. “Don’t lie, baby girl. I know you have.”
I took the bottle from him, my fingers brushing over his before I drank. Because I had gotten off to the thought of him on numerous occasions. And the bastard knew it.
Wolf shook his head. “Never have I ever fucked someone at this table.” Wolf drank, as did several of the girls, but much to my surprise, Bellamy didn’t, and neither did I.
Wolf frowned at Bellamy. “Seriously, dude?” He waved a hand around the table. “No one?”
Bellamy shrugged his shoulder, his gaze aimed solely at me. “I’m picky.”
“Jesus Christ. What kind of guy is picky with pussy?” He crushed the empty beer can, then tossed it to the corner of the porch as a group of people made their way into the yard. “There’s no way you haven’t pounded her.” Wolf pointed at me. “No way.”
“I mean, finger fucked, tongue fucked… but not fucked-fucked.”
Heat engulfed my face, and I feigned a sudden fascination with the label on the tequila bottle as I elbowed Bellamy.
A girl pushed up from the table, disappearing inside.
We kept going through questions until there were only four of us left seated, and I had a slight buzz from the tequila.
After a never have I ever given or received a bathroom blowjob, Wolf glared at me through a drunken haze. “There is no way you’re this pure, Paris Hilton.” He hiccupped before slamming back against the seat. As much as he drank, he was going to throw up later.
“Or you’re just asking the wrong questions,” I said. “Screwing in a Dayton High bathroom. Really? That’s just gross.”
On a snort, he staggered to his feet, grabbing the arm of the blonde beside him. “Congratu-fucking-lations! You win,” he said, leading her into the house.
And then it was just Bellamy and me and the hum of noise from the party inside.
“Wow,” I mumbled. “That is…” The words trailed off when Bellamy’s eyes dropped to my lips. Something wild coursed through my veins, stirred to life by a combination of tequila and him. His smell, his touch, that devastating smirk that got me every time.
His hand trailed along the inside of my thigh while his lips brushed my neck. I may have only been tipsy, but his touch made me feel absolutely drunk.
“Do you like it when I touch you, baby girl?”
“I shouldn’t,” I breathed, leaning into his chest as his hand wandered farther.
“You’re right.” His teeth raked my throat. “You really shouldn’t.”
Shouldn’t and wouldn’t were a million miles apart where Bellamy West was concerned. I had hated him, wanted him, reasoned as to why he was a terrible idea, and every time it came back to basic animal instinct that was as natural as breathing.