The Naughty List Read Online Sheridan Anne

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Contemporary Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
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“You finally crossed Nick off your naughty list?” Rena cuts me off, trying to finish my sentence for me as a cheesy, hopeful grin stretches across her face.

I groan and roll my eyes as the embarrassment of my night comes back full force. “As much as I wanted to cross him off the to-do list, I fully humiliated myself trying to do so, and that won’t be happening. Besides, now that I don’t have Oxley’s potent concoction pulsing through my veins, the only thing I need to tick off my to-do list is a groveling apology. Not to mention, I’m pretty sure Nick was still in the house, lighting my fire, while I got myself off.”

“Ummmm . . . what?” she laughs. “You’ve definitely missed parts of that story.”

Embarrassment flushes my cheeks, and I pick up my full coffee mug, taking a long-awaited sip. “When Sarah and I got so drunk we could barely stand up, Oxley called Nick to come take our asses home, and then Nick walked me right into my bedroom to make sure I didn’t kill myself on the way, and after an embarrassing encounter with my vibrator and me pretty much begging him to watch me use it, he stormed out saying he wasn’t going to touch me until I was begging for him back and then . . .”

I cut myself off, the humiliation of last night suffocating my words. How the hell am I supposed to live this down?

“And then?” Rena prompts. “You can’t get that far into a story and just stop mid-sentence. What happened?”

“Ugghhhhhh,” I groan, not wanting to have to repeat it again. “He stepped into me and said some things that made me all . . . hmmmmm . . . and then he just walked away, leaving me all worked up, and when I heard the door close behind him, I—”

“Got to work,” she booms, her laugh coming through my speakers in a high-pitched squeal.

“Like any other woman on the edge would do,” I agree. “But this morning I realized the fire had been made, and I know for sure he didn’t have time to light it before he forced me into my room, which only means he had to have done it after, right when I was—”

“Giiiiiiirl,” Rena laughs, enjoying this way too much. “That’s so damn funny. I’ve heard you getting off before, and you are so not discreet about it. The whole foundation of the house would have rocked when you came.”

My cheeks flush the brightest shade of red, and I bury my face into my hands. “What am I going to do?”

“Invite him to join in next time,” she says, shrugging her shoulders as though it’s that simple. “After all, you’re still in love with him, right?”

I swallow hard and glance away, not having enough courage to face that reality this morning. “Did I show you my paint job?” I ask, more than happy to change the topic.

Rena rolls her eyes. “Subtle.”

I smirk. “You wanna see it or not?”

“Show me.”

Grabbing the laptop, I walk around the house, showing off all the work I’ve been doing before leading her into one of the spare rooms where I have piles of boxes. She talks with me for a while, helping me make the final decision on some of Nana and Pop’s old things, whether they need to go into storage or be donated because I simply could not make the call myself.

Then on my way back to the dining table, she makes underhanded comments about my Christmas spirit throwing up in my living room. By the time I’m sitting back at my table, my stomach rumbles for lunch, and when Rena follows my train of thought and shifts, I realize the background is more than just familiar, she’s in my apartment.

“Woah. Hold up,” I say. “Is that my kitchen you’re sitting in?”

“You’re only just realizing now? We’ve been talking for over an hour.”

“You know I can’t function after a night of wild drinking. I’m lucky I’m even functioning today.”

“Good point,” she laughs before fixing me with a hard stare, worrying her bottom lip as though considering if she’s even going to tell me what she’s up to. “I was planning on saying that I was here to water your plants—”

“I don’t have any plants.”

“Yeah. The only downfall of my otherwise brilliant plan.”

“Rena,” I scold.

She lets out a heavy sigh. “Alright, fine. I’m packing up your apartment.”

My eyes bug out of my head, and I gape at her like she just told me she spent the evening with her fist shoved up a gorilla’s ass. “You’re doing what?” I screech.

“You heard me. I’m getting a head start on the inevitable,” she explains. “You might not know it yet because you’re so hellbent on denying what everybody else can so clearly see, but Blushing is your home. It’s where you’re happiest and have all of the memories of your nana and pop.”


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