Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 31081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 155(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 155(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Something hot clenches in my chest.
Foreign but fierce.
I like this power I have over her. The power to help her. The power to make her feel good. The power of making her plump lips twitch into the slightest of smiles.
“Thank you, Joshua,” she murmurs, reopening her eyes. “You’re a good friend. I’m glad I chose you.”
The tightening inside my chest ceases, growing cold once more. Friends. We’re friends. Mostly, she’s a client. Nothing more.
She stands on her toes, gives me a quick peck to my cheek, then walks away.
The warmth in the room goes with her.
6
Vibrating. There’s no other word I can think to explain it. Every nerve ending is alive, ignited. I’m aching in the best way possible. I’ve never had someone make me feel so awakened. Every part of my body responded to his touch, his voice, his control, because I knew, in reality, I held the power, and there was nothing to fear—only to feel.
Brushing down my hair, I slip into the bathroom to make sure I’m presentable. Eyes trail me like a hunter tracks their prey. He’s watching me. I can sense him. There’s something so intense between us, it feels like I’ve known him forever, like I’ve been looking, waiting, expecting him always. I know I’m just in a state of arousal telling me it’s more than it actually is, but I don’t care. I’m going to allow myself the elevated state of pleasure to keep me floating on air and fantasizing there’s this cosmic connection between us burning like an inferno. Nothing is putting us out.
Looking at my mussed hair and smudged lipstick causes a smile to curl my lips. I can’t stop it from spreading up my flushed cheeks. There’s no going back after this. I’m not coming back down after tasting the high that is Joshua Tuck. I look like I’ve just been royally fucked, and I love it. It’s a good look on me. Pulling a paper towel from its holder, I rub the smeared lipstick from around my mouth and reapply.
“Money or a man that’s got you smiling like that?” a woman asks with a knowing smirk as she adds mascara to her lashes in the mirror next to mine.
“Man.” I blush, biting my lip.
“Damn, girl, don’t let that one get away.” She winks.
It’s then it sinks in. This isn’t a girl meeting a boy and sparks flying. I’m paying for this feeling. For this pleasure. I can’t let my emotions evolve. This is a transaction. A friendship. I can’t let my guard down and allow my heart to be at risk. With a new resolve, I chuck the paper towel in the trash and shrug my purse on my shoulder.
“Excuse me,” I politely say as I shove through the girls crowding the entry of the bathroom. Not one of them apologize. I decide right here and now I’m done being the pushover—the meek girl who doesn’t speak up when people are assholes.
“Can you form a damn line and move the fuck out of the way of the door!” I bellow, making them scatter like chickens in a pen with a fox. I raise my chin and beam all the way through the club. I’m almost at the exit when a firm hand grabs my wrist, pulling me backward.
I don’t know how, but my instincts tell me it’s not Joshua. My hackles rise, sending my defenses into awareness. Turning fast in their grip, I curl my fingers, the heel of my palm ready to connect with their nose. I freeze in place when I recognize the man before me.
“Rocko, hey.” I half laugh, half choke. It’s weird seeing him after so long and in this kind of club. I awkwardly duck my head to hide the heat burning my cheeks.
“What are you…? No, wait, sorry, I know why people come here. Thrill-seeking,” he mumbles, shaking his head, stuttering over his words.
Damn, is that embarrassment crawling up his neck and cheeks?
Rocko the Cocko is blushing?
“It’s been a long time. How have you been?” he asks, trying to start a normal conversation in a very abnormal circumstance.
“Erm…good, thank you. I was just leaving.” I cringe.
“You look good. God, how long has it been?” He rubs a hand across the back of his neck.
“Long.” I shrug and take a step back. He reaches out, but doesn’t touch me. It’s a gesture to keep me there—to keep talking. A bartender calls out to him, and it’s then I realize he’s holding a stack of glasses in one hand. “You work here?” I ask, looking back at the bar, then around the booths.
“This is my brother’s place. I don’t think you’ve ever met him, but yeah, I help out when things get busy.” He has the same intensity in his eyes as his older brother. There’s more innocence to his features than the rough edges of Joshua’s.