Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23614 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 118(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23614 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 118(@200wpm)___ 94(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
But now, she’s disappeared on me. What the fuck? What the hell did I do to deserve this? Instead of returning to the hotel, I get a text that Jamie’s going to spend the night at her apartment. Now why the fuck would she do that? She lives in a shitty fifth-floor walkup on the edge of Greenpoint with a restaurant downstairs that stinks of BBQ 24/7. What the hell was wrong with my suite at the Wythe?
I texted her. I called her. I texted again, but all to no avail. Jamie wasn’t picking up, and I saw red. As a result, I’m headed over to her apartment to confront the sweet girl. I haven’t had my evening sex and it makes me pissed-off and grumpy. I can’t think of anything but getting into that curvy body, and the moment I see her, I’m going to push deep into her sweltering pussy.
But first, this fifth floor walk up. I stare at the dilapidated building, astonished that something in such disrepair still exists. They don’t tear down shit like this in New York? I guess not because as I stand on the sidewalk, a young boy comes out with a bag slung over his back. He doesn’t look at me, and instead strides away. But not before I catch the door before it closes.
Then, I practically bolt up all five flights of stairs. Goddamn, New York will keep you fit because if everyone’s doing this each time they have to take out the trash or buy groceries, the this city must be filled with Olympic athletes. Nonetheless, I’m at the fifth floor landing within seconds, and wrinkle my brow with disgust. It’s dusty, dirty, grimy, and a chunk of the banister literally comes off in my hand as I grip the railing. Fuck that. I toss it over the edge with a grunt, and then bang on the door for Apartment 5b.
“Jamie!” I roar. “What the fuck?”
There’s a shuffling sound inside, and then my curvy girl speaks.
“Go away, Dane! I’m busy!”
“Like hell you’re busy! Open up,” I shout again, banging with both my fists on the wooden door. The racket is ear-splitting, and sure enough a door down the hall opens and an elderly lady wearing a satin cap on her head glares at me with murder in her eyes.
“Get a hotel room if you want the young lady!” she screeches. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I have a hotel room,” I roar right back, uncaring that the elderly lady is hunched and frail. “But this confounding woman won’t take my calls!”
At that, the door jerks open and my curvy girl stands there, seething. Jamie’s so mad that her face is red in the cutest way, and her curls seem to stand on end, bristling with electricity.
“Come in, Dane” she says in a brittle voice. Then, Jamie pastes a fake smile on her mouth before leaning slightly out and giving the old lady a wave. “Sorry, Mrs. Piner. My friend just needs to use the bathroom really bad. He’s about to pee in his pants.”
The old lady grumbles something unintelligible but disappears as I step into the apartment. Damn, this place is small. I have no idea why Ed won’t pay for something nicer, but Jamie lives in only one room as far as I can tell. There’s a narrow twin bed beneath a window, and a coffee table right next to it. A sink, microwave, and miniature fridge are lined up against one wall, and there’s a small entryway that clearly leads to the bathroom. Jamie’s decorated the space with colorful tapestries and a selection of potted plants, but the décor can’t hide the overall dilapidation of the place, with its peeling paint and dirty walls.
“Damn,” I marvel. “Your dad’s a fucking cheap bastard. I’ll have to talk to Ed about getting you nicer digs.”
“Thanks, Dane,” Jamie says in a sarcastic voice as she sits on her bed. “Your manners are so amazing.”
I shrug.
“Just saying. Ed’s a millionaire. He can do better for his daughter. Hell, I’m happy to help you if he won’t. It’s no skin off my nose.”
Jamie merely harrumphs and crosses her arms over her chest. She’s wearing loose sweats and her hair’s a rat’s nest, but I don’t care. She’s gorgeous to me, and the sweet scent of rose drifts to my nostrils, an aphrodisiac even in this slum.
“You’re a snob, you know that?” she snarls, squinting venomously at me. “You’re a rich bastard who insults other peoples’ homes.”
I gesture to the furnishings.
“Do you actually like this place?”
Her cheeks burn with color.
“It’s not about liking or not liking. This place is close to Dane’s Coffee, and near McCarren Park where I go to decompress. There also happen to be not one, but two branches of the public library nearby so yes, I happen to like my home. I know it’s not as fancy as yours, but this is the place where I put my head down to rest each night.”