Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Just as the nicotine gang made it inside, the meeting organizer stood and introduced herself and briefly went into her own five-year recovering journey thus far. It was brief and encouraging, and Rayne found himself getting immersed as soon as the first person raised their hand to share. She was a gorgeous woman with long shock-red hair and bright green eyes that popped from the kohl-black liner framing them.
“Hi, I’m Chelsea—Chels—and I’m a sex addict.”
“Welcome, Chelsea,” the group answered.
She appeared to be in her late twenties, maybe mid-thirties. Her tight, low-cut shirt revealed a lot of cleavage, maybe too much, but it was the three unicorns mounted in a compromising position on the front of her baby tee that held his attention. She had a sassy smirk on her scarlet lips as she glanced around the circle.
“Well, damn. I’m glad I finally made it to a meeting, although I didn’t expect it to be such a vag-fest, but I’m gonna give it a try anyway.” Her joke earned a nice round of chuckles from the group that instantly put Rayne at ease as she launched into her colorful, although disturbing, world. He’d become captivated as Chelsea—Chels—confessed to cheating on her last girlfriend despite how much she loved her. By the end of her story, she was begging the group to convince her that there was hope, that there was a better way to live than in this hellish cycle of torment.
Before Rayne knew it, the hour-long meeting was over, but the company was friendly enough that Rayne decided to linger like everyone else. He made his way back to the buffet to get a couple more of those turkey-and-cheese pinwheels and some fruit. He was just about to drop a few dollops of ranch dressing on his cucumber slices when Chelsea came and stood too close to his side, jabbing him once in the ribs with her long, sharp nail.
“Hey,” she almost barked. “Why were you so quiet? I thought for sure you’d have something to share.”
Rayne blinked, wondering what that was supposed to mean. “Why?”
She shrugged. “Just because your eyes are gorgeous doesn’t mean they aren’t full of pain.”
“Wow.” Rayne lifted a brow at her forwardness.
“Sorry,” she said, plucking a cherry tomato off his plate without asking and popping it into her mouth. “I know I’m a little bold sometimes. Well, all the time.”
“No. I don’t get that vibe from you at all.” Rayne feigned surprise as she helped herself to a cucumber slice next.
“My counselor says I should try making contacts and friends with like-minded goals. So my homework was to put myself out there and make a social contact. This is me doing that.”
Rayne smiled when he remembered his sponsor giving him the same spiel. It was good advice but difficult to execute. He’d been lucky to find a real friendship in Wood; maybe he should try to make another. “My name is Rayne.”
“Chels.” She beamed, then took one of his pinwheels.
Rayne pointed at the table. “Y’know, there’s more plates and food if you’re hungry.”
“Tastes better off your plate.” She winked.
Rayne shook his head. God, he hoped she wasn’t flirting.
“Oh, don’t mind me. I’m all the way vajayjay. That’s why I thought me and you might make good friends.”
“Oh yeah.” Rayne was intrigued. “And why is that?”
“Because you have a dick where I’d prefer there was a clit.”
Rayne chuckled. Man, she was a pistol. Gutsy and up-front. She followed him back to his seat and sat beside him, still picking off his plate.
“I won’t have to worry about you hitting on me, and you don’t have to worry about me copping a cheap feel of your ass.”
Rayne almost choked on his oatmeal raisin cookie. “You really are forward, aren’t you?”
“A blessing and a curse,” she sighed. “So what’s your deal, man? Why are you so quiet?”
Rayne stared down at his plate. “Not much to say, I guess.”
“I think you have a lot to say. You’re just terrified of what people are going to think when you do.”
Damn. What is she, psychic? That’s exactly why Rayne preferred to listen and learn but not share. His story wasn’t like everyone else’s. He wasn’t addicted to the physical contact of sex and the gratification of it. He was obsessed with how easily he could manipulate people with it. When he fucked his marks, he turned all feelings off. It was disgusting and trifling what he’d done to so many innocent, unsuspecting men. And instead of telling Chelsea, she’d hit the nail on the head. He kept his eyes on his food.
“You know what, Rayne.” She crossed her leg over her knee, letting her high-heeled pump dangle off her toes as she glanced unimpressed around the room.
“What?” he mumbled, snapping a baby carrot between his teeth.
“Fuck people.”
Rayne chuckled, allowing a lightness to fill his soul. That was the second time he’d gotten that advice from two pretty kick-ass individuals.