Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 182641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 913(@200wpm)___ 731(@250wpm)___ 609(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 913(@200wpm)___ 731(@250wpm)___ 609(@300wpm)
There are a lot of rich folks in the town I live in, and I’ll happily take the fuckers’ money when they want to play big baller, betting a ridiculous amount on a fight with no clear winner. It’s always for show, to get the girl or to piss off some guy or some other dumbass reason. The rich pricks where I’m from go to school and get good grades, but other than that, they spend their time partying and chasing tail.
Basically, they’re normal-ass high school and college kids.
Rocklin ain’t like them, that’s easy to see.
“You like your life, Rich Girl?”
When she says nothing, I roll my head against the frame, so I’m facing her as she is me, our backs flat, hands lying on our stomachs, minus the one holding the joint.
She’s glaring, searching, so I let her. Ain’t nothing for her to find, after all.
She blinks a few times, but that’s all I get.
“That a hard question?”
“It’s a personal question,” she quips.
“Right, and only my dick gets the pleasure of knowing you personally, yeah?”
Her lips purse, eyes narrowing, but then a small laugh leaves her, and she snatches the joint from my fingers, facing the sky once more. “If I were smart, yes, but then again, letting a stranger fuck me wasn’t the brightest idea I’ve ever had. I had myself tested, by the way. Turns out you’re clean,” she teases.
A smirk pulls at my lips. “Thanks for clearing that up. I was worried there a minute.”
She bounces her brows once, waving the dead joint, so I reach over and spark the lighter.
She puffs a few times, her nose scrunching. “This tastes like shit.”
“Yeah, ‘cause it’s been lit five times. Quit bullshittin’.”
She tries to hide her smile, taking a few long pulls before handing it back.
A long, loud sigh pushes past her lips, and then she says, “My sister’s a cunt.”
From the corner of my eye, I glance her way.
So, she has a sister. She’s not alone in some fancy house she can’t escape. That’s good.
“Sucks to be you. My sister’s an angel.”
Her head snaps my way. “You have a sister?”
“Yup.” I frown at the sky.
Why’d I tell her that?
I don’t talk about my sister. I keep her in my mind but out of my mouth. She’s good and the world isn’t.
Fuck it, it’s not like it matters. This … friendly little adventure Rocklin’s on will pass when her moment of rebellion does.
Daddy’s little princess doesn’t play in the dirt for long.
The thought shouldn’t taste so sour on my tongue.
Rocklin rolls onto her stomach, her forearms flat on the car, and her hair falls over her shoulder.
I’m tempted to touch it, to run the silky golden strands between my fingers.
“Is that another thing we have in common?” she jokes, and it looks good on her.
No practiced sass or head-held-high bullshit.
Just a stoned girl, looking like the sexiest version of Catwoman I’ve ever seen in her all-black, skintight getup—the Barbie version, pink lips and all.
I push up, roll myself, and like I thought she might, she rolls with me, once again on her back, in perfect timing for me to throw my leg over her body. I hover a few inches above her.
She stares, lips slightly quirked, waiting to see what I’ll do.
My knuckles come up, and I decide to do what I wanted to, pinch a strand of her hair between my fingers, bringing it to my cheek. It’s as soft as it looks. Smells like flowers dipped in sugar.
Her chest rises and falls quickly, palms flattening on the blanket. I’ve got a feeling she wants to reach out, grab me, yank on me, and demand all the things she wants. In her life, I bet she gets exactly what she expects, yet she holds back.
Good girl.
“Another bad day, ma?”
There’s a moment’s hesitation, but she nods. It’s subtle, but it’s there.
“Is it the bitchy sister’s fault?”
Her eyes narrow, yet still … another small nod.
“Want me to kill her?”
Shock flickers across her face, and then she laughs. It’s a deep belly laugh, eyes crinkling and all. Her hand comes up and slightly covers her face. When it finally falls back to her side, there’s a flip in her features.
They’re softer, less cagey. Less … suspicious.
I press my knee between hers and those green eyes flick to my lips, so I run my tongue along my bottom one.
“Waiting for me to kiss you?”
At her glare, a chuckle leaves me, and I dip down, running my mouth up the side of her neck, groaning when she stretches it wider for me. I kiss her throat, reveling in the sharp breath she draws through her nostrils.
“Does it make you feel better to know I want to?” My hand glides down her side until I can fold my fingers with hers, and then I lean back, pulling her with me, our shoes meeting the pavement.