Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
“Great, I need to fix myself up.” She wiggles her ass on my cock, trying to get off my lap.
“You look delicious,” I grin, letting her slide down to the seat. “The minute we get out of this car, there’s no hiding us, you okay with that?” She glances over my shoulder at the photographers as she fishes out her lipstick.
“Are you?” Then she focuses on her small mirrored compact as she reapplies the color.
Am I? Not really, I want her all to myself, and the press is just a massive pain in the ass, but as for everyone knowing she’s mine…yeah, I like that.
“If I hear one fucking Marshey…” I shake my head as a couple photographers walk closer toward the SUV, and Courtney laughs. “I’m pissed Rachel leaked that name to the tabloids—”
“Come on…it’s cute.” She snaps her compact closed. “How do I look?” She smiles a million-dollar smile at me, then laughs again as I shake my head at her.
“This is not funny, we are not becoming Bennifer, or fucking Jelena, or whatever the hell they were calling them,” I growl at her.
“Well, the Biebs is with Haley now, so…” She smiles.
“Let’s go.” Opening the door and stepping out, I instantly hear them screaming for me.
“Ammo, look over here…Ammo, is Courtney with you?” I hold up my hand and wave, reminding myself this is all part of being blessed with fame. Usually the paparazzi doesn’t bother me, so I’m kind of surprised at my sudden aggravation.
Breathe, Ammo, all part of the game, you don’t want to get sued today, I tell myself. Holding out my hand for Courtney as she slides out, the looky-loos jump out of their lawn chairs and start filming.
“Christ, let’s get inside,” I grumble, my hand on the bottom of her back as she smiles and waves.
“Ammmoooo…Ace of Spades.” Someone in the group starts to chant.
“This a lot of photographers. Someone had to tip them off, right?” I can barely hear her as cars whiz by, honking and screaming. Even the ones waiting in the valet line are taking pictures.
“Courtney. Look over here. Are you and Ammo in love? Courtney, smile for me, baby…” I grit my teeth trying not to rage out, but this is fucked.
“Have you heard from Johnny? What about Roxy?” They just keep firing off questions at us as I motion to Ace, our main bodyguard for Stuffed Muffins.
“Christ, why didn’t you text me you were coming in?” Instantly by my side, he’s holding up his hand at a photographer trying to dash around traffic.
“I will have the police clear you all out if you don’t stay across the street,” Ace yells and motions to one of his guys to let us in.
“Jesus.” Looking down at Courtney, I realize that was just a taste of the madness that we are gonna have to deal with now that they have confirmation about us being together.
“I’m gonna up your security,” I state as I walk up the stairs leading to Granger’s fucking palace. He bought up two lots so he could expand and make one giant house.
Gia designed most of it, trying to keep the upscale beach vibe on the outside, but stepping in is a completely different story.
She worked for months turning the entire house eco-friendly and green, from the wood floors to the paint that was mixed in with the plaster, it’s stunning. The floorplan is open, and the entire back of the house is glass, allowing you to admire the ocean and see his giant infinity pool. Colorful umbrellas and red-striped lawn chairs are scattered around his giant deck.
I glance over at Gia’s photos that hang on the walls, along with some of our Gold and Platinum albums.
“I had no idea there would be this many people.” Tightening my hand around Courtney’s, I’m surprised at how much all this is bothering me. It has to be the press, and the shit with Rachel, because I always like to party.
“This place is gorgeous,” she yells as she looks all around the house.
“Without people in it, it is,” I mumble, watching a woman spill her drink on the massive glass table holding an enormous flower arrangement. Just a bunch of entitled, beautiful people wanting to say they were at Rhys Granger’s house. Because really, who the fuck are these people anyway?
“Let’s get a drink.” Weaving my way through the crowd, I push my way to the large bar in the corner as Stevie Ray Vaughn plays in the background.
“Two Jägermeisters.” I nod at the woman in a tuxedo top, right as a guy in an obnoxious Hawaiian shirt who’s laughing like a dick slings his arm into Courtney.
And that’s it.
“The fuck?” My hand instantly shoving him as he falls into another guy, who drops his drink, and they both turn to charge at me, then stop.