The Player I Hate to Love (Elite Players #2) Read Online Jillian Quinn

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Erotic, Sports Tags Authors: Series: Elite Players Series by Jillian Quinn
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Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 202(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
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“No pet names, Will.”

“Right. How could I forget?”

She rolled her eyes at me, and that was the end of our conversation. We left the casino, still holding hands, and climbed into the back of our limousine.

I came to Vegas for my twenty-first birthday. We had an epic time. But back then I was broke as shit and had to stay off the strip. I lived in the dorms at Strickland University, only able to attend the prestigious school because of my full ride scholarship for hockey. I ate ramen noodles and beef jerky for six months to afford the plane ticket and the shitty hotel room. But it was totally worth it.

We dropped Mia off at the Bellagio before we headed to the strip club. With my sister out of the picture, Clarke’s guard lowered. She rubbed my inner thigh with her palm, her fingers dangerously close to my cock. She was such a bad girl when she drank. It was as if her alter ego came out to play.

Clarke latched onto my arm as we entered the dark strip club. There were several stages surrounding the main one, crowded with mostly men and a handful of women. Over the years, I’d noticed strippers flocked to the women. They were a rare sighting in these kinds of places, and the men who accompanied them usually tipped better. Which meant I would pay even more tonight for bringing Clarke along.

But it was well worth it.

I gave my name to a pretty, topless blonde with huge tits and zero body fat. She escorted us toward the back of the club with a pleasant smile. Clarke chatted with the girl, already making a new friend. She really was a different person when she drank.

In three years, I had never known her to have more than one friend at a time. She was like my sister in that way. The pair would rather stay in the house and marathon Harry Potter movies or follow a lead on a new story than have fun.

Once inside the VIP room, I went straight for the bar, taking Clarke with me. A pretty brunette who took our drink order greeted us. She served Clarke with a grin, then handed me a bottle of beer. Clarke drank from her glass as I dropped a hundred-dollar bill on the bar. That was one of many I shelled out for my best friend’s last night of freedom.

Clarke leaned against my side, her fingers gripping the wooden bar for support. I held her upright so she could drink without spilling on herself. She was a hot mess, but in a good way.

“You gonna let the girls dance on your dick tonight?” I asked Ethan.

“I promised Mia…”

“Don’t pussy out on me.” I gave him a hard look. “I paid a shit ton of money for your last hurrah.”

“I don’t feel like it’s the end of the world,” he admitted. “Mia’s it for me.”

“If she wasn’t my sister, I’d definitely call you a pussy whipped loser.”

He laughed. “Whatever, bro. You’re the one who threatened my life if I ever broke her heart. You should be happy about this.”

“I am. But you can get a lap dance without my baby sis giving you shit.”

Ethan groaned, angling his body to look at the strippers making their way into the room. “Just one. And don’t hold it over my head.”

I gave him a triumphant smile and left Clarke at the bar. She was busy chatting with the bartender, while I talked to the girls who’d just entered the room.

I pointed my finger at Ethan and told them he was the bachelor and to give him the VIP treatment. Three girls sauntered over to him, and Ethan shot me an annoyed look as they cornered him.

Smirk in place, I mouthed, Have some fun, old man.

With Ethan and my teammates occupied, I grabbed Clarke by the waist and pulled her into my chest. She rubbed her ass on my cock, shaking her hips to the pop song belting through the speakers. A stripper with small breasts and red hair tapped Clarke on the shoulder.

The girl looked up at me with a smile, then her eyes fell to Clarke’s face. “Is this your man, sugar?”

Clarke was about to say no when I chimed, “Yes.”

She beamed with delight, probably counting the money she’d make from a couple in her head. “I’m Ginger,” she told us, then asked us our names.

Ginger? How original?

“Have you ever stripped for him before?”

“In a manner of speaking…” Clarke glanced up at me. “I don’t know. You tell me, honey.”

I almost laughed at her usage of a pet name since she loathed them so much. But I was a good sport, so I played along.

“My girl fucks like a wild kitty,” I said as I sucked Clarke’s earlobe into my mouth, ripping a moan from her lips. “She knows how to move her body.”


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