Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 133511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
Better.
Than.
Christmas.
“Are you still fingering yourself?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “And I’m getting closer. It feels like I’m all heavy down there, like there’s a string inside me spooling up between my legs . . . pulled tight . . . it hurts but it feels so good and I really, really don’t want it to stop.”
I was gonna get calluses on my hand at this rate. Goddamn it, but I wished that was her jerking me off instead of me. I was close, though—the pressure was tight in my balls, making it hard to think. Making it hard, period.
“What are you doing with your fingers?” I asked.
“I’m moving one in a circle, right over my clit . . . I’m pushing down and going faster, because I’m really close. I’m so wet I can feel it running down my crack—ugh. Did that sound gross?”
I licked my lips, holding back a moan.
“No, it sounds hotter than fuck,” I admitted. My balls were a pressure cooker, full of hot come just for her. I’d fill her up, keep her prisoner in my bed, just for me.
Suddenly the whole slave-girl thing was sounding more interesting.
“I’m so close,” she whispered. “Tell me about—”
She screamed abruptly. I heard shouting and a loud noise.
Then the line went dead.
MELANIE
Kit Hayes exploded into my bedroom, followed by Jessica. They were screeching and shouting, oblivious to the fact that they’d caught me in the act. I squawked in shocked horror, dropping the phone. Thank God I’d been under a blanket—wasn’t sure I could live it down if they’d caught me bare assed, wanking like a total perv.
Not after the whole shower thing . . . not to mention flashing my unpainted boobs at Taz.
Oh God. It was already way too late.
“What’s wrong with you?” I demanded, clutching the covers to my chest. “Have you lost your minds?”
“Dad and London got married!” Kit shouted, eyes wide. A grim-faced Jessica nodded, confirming the declaration.
“Married? But they were planning a wedding for December . . .”
“Dad said he didn’t trust me and Em with a bachelorette party,” Kit spat out. “We made a huge mistake by asking if we could use The Line—that tipped him off. He says he and London didn’t want any fuss, so they just went down to the courthouse and got a license. They did it this morning, at the wedding chapel. Nobody was there. Em’s in another state.”
“I cannot believe her,” Jess added. “Loni had no right to do this without us—so irresponsible and selfish. She was only thinking about herself.”
Oh, seriously? Now Jessica was lecturing people about responsibility? That was ridiculous on too many different levels to count.
“That’s unfair,” I insisted, even though I was a little miffed, too—I’d been looking forward to the whole bridesmaid thing. “Loni is always taking care of other people. She works all the time, she puts up with our shit . . . she’s already done the whole wedding thing once and it didn’t end well. We can’t blame her for wanting to take care of it and move on.”
“Of course you’d take her side,” Jess snapped. “You’ve always taken her side. I haven’t forgotten that you’re the one who ratted me out to her last summer. If it wasn’t for my fight with Loni, I wouldn’t have run off to California and maybe—”
I sat up, narrowing my eyes at her.
“You’ve got one hell of a nerve, trying to blame me for that,” I said coldly. “It’s not my fault that you . . .”
My voice trailed off as I realized they were both staring at me. What? A breeze hit my bare nipple, and I realized I’d let go of the blanket.
Well, wasn’t that just craptastic.
“You were on the phone with Painter, weren’t you?” Kit asked, eyes going from angry to speculative to flat-out dirty in a matter of seconds. How did she do that? “Oh my God, look at her blushing! You were having phone sex when we came in here!”
“Phone sex!” Jess screeched, completely forgetting her rant. “How slutty is that! I’m so proud of you—first you’re fucking him in the shower and now you’re getting off over the phone. For the record, I still don’t think he’s a good choi—”
“Wait, you fucked Painter in the shower?” Kit asked. I groped for the blanket, wondering what I’d done to deserve this torment. “So does that mean you’re together now?”
I shrugged.
“I’m not sure,” I admitted, frowning. “He’s busy doing stuff for the club somewhere, but we’re exclusive. At least, that’s what we agreed before he left.”
Kit frowned, sitting down next to me.
“Painter’s not really good at the whole exclusivity thing,” she said. “I know I warned you off him, but that’s obviously a moot point and I want you to have fun . . . still, you need to be careful. You can’t take him seriously.”