Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“You have nothing.”
I stand, looking him nearly in the eyes thanks to my heels. “For a man who is so interested in the weak and downtrodden, you don’t seem very interested in actually helping them. Maybe you’re doing your best in a corrupt system. If you helped me, you could be a hero. There’s something going on. I’m going to figure out what it is, and when I do, I’m going to blow the lid right off it.”
His face hardens and his eyes narrow into angry slits. Definitely not going to be a second interview, no matter how much skin I flash. Did I make a mistake pushing him? Maybe I should have played it cool this time and stroked his ego, then gone in for the kill when he trusted me more. My stomach flips at the idea of having to fawn all over him. No, this was fine. I’ve shaken him up, now I have to watch and see what falls out.
“Get. Out. I give you one more chance before I call security. You're skirting the lines of libel. You’ve done one internship and you think you’re hot shit, but you have nothing on me. You’re a kid who wants to play in the grown up league.” He's obviously furious, but there's something else there too. A quaver in his voice like he's… nervous? Afraid? Did I hit close to home? He points. “The door, Ms. Cole. And give me that recorder.”
I swipe it off the table and drop it into my purse. “I'm sorry, Mr. Mullerby, but even a kid like me knows better than that. Have a nice afternoon, and you know how to reach me if you change your mind and want to be on the right side of history.”
“Out!” He slams the door shut behind me.
I power walk as fast as I can without looking like I’m running from something. He probably won’t call security, but just in case, I’d rather be gone before I find out. Once I’m out of sight of City Hall, I lean against a building for support as my knees go wobbly. Crap, that was actually kind of scary. I got to sit in on a few interviews when I did my internship, but I was never alone for anything more interesting than interviewing a farmer at the local market.
When I pull out my phone, there are several new messages from the FixerUppers, which immediately distract me from my lack of progress with Mullerby. It looks like Mack and Reaper felt the need to prove that Scrapper didn’t have a significant advantage.
It feels strange to do the flirting part of the relationship after the sex, but it’s kind of fun, too.
Do you guys take requests?
Only from our only fan.
10
MILA
I wake to an empty apartment, which is a luxury when you’re crashing on a couch. I get up and make myself a coffee, before immediately curling back up under my blanket to enjoy the latest TheFixerUppers content. There are a couple renovation updates that I don’t pay much attention to, and then I let out an excited squeal when I see they listened to my request. It’s a slow pan over their tattoos, with each of them wearing nothing but slightly too small towels around their waists.
Oh. My. God.
Mack has a swirl of ink on his thigh that vanishes under the towel, and it’s impossible not to notice his… hugeness just underneath the fuzzy cotton. Reaper’s back tattoo is on full display, the massive scythe stretching from his shoulders down to the dips in his back right above where his perfect butt is covered. I lick my lips as the camera pans down Scrapper’s side, showing off his lean fighter’s build and the dragon that’s curled around his entire leg.
The most liked comment is: “It looked at me first!” followed by a bunch of eggplant and water emojis.
I’m not jealous. Obviously. I have no reason to be jealous.
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
I loved the night I had with them, but what am I supposed to do? Go back just to get laid?
Okay, that actually doesn't sound half bad out loud, but in the long run I don’t think I could do it without developing feelings. It’s better to just have fun through messages where nobody is getting hurt, and hang on to the memories I have. And the videos and pictures.
Definitely the videos and pictures.
My hand creeps under the blanket, pushing under the waist of my pajama pants and between my legs. I bring up my direct messages and grin. The whole world can have their other videos, but these are for my eyes only. There’s one new one. It’s Mack, a shot of him from behind in the shower, where his one hand is against the back wall, and the other is moving quickly between his legs. Because of the angle of the shot, I can’t see exactly what he’s doing, but my own fingers fall into rhythm with this movement of his arm. Water slides down his naked body, and I can hear his deep, throaty groans. It’s over too quickly. I bite my lip and stiffen on the couch as my orgasm washes over me just as Mack’s head falls back and his muscular ass clenches.