Playing Dirty (Billionaire Playboys #1) Read Online Tory Baker

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Billionaire Playboys Series by Tory Baker
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Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 36553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 146(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
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“Fuck you, Parker Hudson,” I say to his retreating back in a whisper-soft tone. Two can play whatever game he’s after. I’m not an idiot. He felt it. There was a hunger in his eyes, a grumble in his voice when we first met, and maybe this is an issue of his own he should work through. Well, too bad for him. He can take his hot-and-cold attitude and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine. I turn around and head for the elevator, wishing like hell all I had to do was mash the button to get the door to open instead of having to be patient. Putting in a code and waiting is the last thing you want to do when you’re ready to be alone with your thoughts. I’m not that lucky, though. I type in my code, stand, and wait until the elevator dings, doing my best not to turn around, refusing to give Parker any kind of reaction. Two can play this game.

SEVEN

Parker

“I fucked up.” Ezra and I are in the ring at the gym we prefer. Both of us in our gloves, shorts, and nothing else. An outlet we found early on in our lives, me to protect myself against my father, the man who had no problem raising his fist to my mother. It’s why I was taking my anger out on anyone who dared cross my path, Ezra included. Which is how we became friends, both of us a product of our childhood. His because of his mother preferring drugs over taking care of her eight-year-old son. My mom did the best she could, shielding not only myself but also Ezra if he was around when dear old dad made an abrupt appearance from one of his three-day benders. Whereas Ezra was always the optimistic one, I was jaded to the core. I saw the way cops wouldn’t help my mother out when they were called by our neighbors. The look of pity. It didn’t matter that she took out restraining orders. By the time help would come, he was long gone. A repeated cycle that happened entirely too long for my liking. Ezra and I were fourteen years old the last time my old man showed up. We grew up, we worked out, and because we were little assholes, the fights happened more and more, allowing us to home in on our plan, and it worked. That night, I might have gotten my ass beaten, bones broken, and skin bruised while Ezra held my mom back so Dad wouldn’t hurt her while simultaneously calling the cops. This time, with a child involved, things escalated. Instead of him running off right before law enforcement arrived, he was so deep into beating me down that he didn’t hear them coming. It was worth it, all the pain, the recovery, to see my mom shed that layer of her life. She took Ezra in. No more foster homes or a boys’ home that Ezra was threatened with time and again whenever he got into trouble. It was during those years we formed a plan, one that wouldn’t have my mom working two jobs to make ends meet, Ezra wanting to give back for all she did for him.

“Care to elaborate?” he asks as I dodge a hit he was aiming at my head, thankful we aren’t as stupid as we once were and use the protective gear the gym provides for us.

“I took Nessa Taylor home last night.” It’s my fist to his stomach now, catching him unaware, and he stumbles back a step or two. I watch as my best friend’s face takes on a look of disbelief. “Don’t look at me like that. You of all people know me better than that.”

“Are you telling me you didn’t fuck her? I want the words spelled out, not that you took her home and leave everything up in the air.” I’d be annoyed if it were anyone else questioning where I did or didn’t put my dick.

“I didn’t fuck her. I didn’t so much as kiss her.” A point that pissed Vanessa off, as well as my dick. The fucker wouldn’t go down, no matter how many times I took matters into my own hand, from the shower I took last night, painting the marble wall with cum. It didn’t help. When I woke up this morning, the first thing my mind picked up was the way she could fill out a dress, owning the room up on stage, and how she had no problem giving me the knowledge that she wanted more when I dropped her off. It was hard to deny her, that’s for damn sure.

“I don’t see the problem here.” We’ve only just begun, and Ezra stands back, chest heaving, hands on his hips, annoyance written all over his face.


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