Total pages in book: 165
Estimated words: 159976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 800(@200wpm)___ 640(@250wpm)___ 533(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 800(@200wpm)___ 640(@250wpm)___ 533(@300wpm)
So this is how the world works, is it? I put on a sex show with some chick I don’t know for a group of slobbering frat boys, and I’ll live happily ever after?
Or will all my hard work and time and good intentions really just come down to how well I forever perform on the casting couch?
I feel Callum move around me as I study the check longer than I like. It’s real. It’s signed.
It’s easy money to the Ames’. They wouldn’t even notice it missing.
The stage hardens under my shoes, and I feel the heat of the spotlight that isn’t even shining and the eyes of every seat filled.
I can picture it, it’s opening night. The snow falls over my head, and I’m going to die one of the most powerful deaths ever written for stage.
God, I want it. I want a lot of things.
But you know what I want most of all? I really want Clay and Callum and everyone else to start paying their fucking bills.
“No one else from our school will be there?” I ask, playing along.
But he doesn’t answer. I hear him exhale behind me, suddenly excited that I’m actually agreeing.
Idiot.
“Olivia…” he breathes out, and I think he’s about to come.
“And it’s just her?” I turn, questioning him. “Not you or anyone else, right?”
He nods, thrill lighting up behind his eyes.
All of a sudden, he holds up a copper key in my face, always ready. “Fox Hill,” he tells me. “Don’t lose it and be ready. I’ll get you as my understudy, then the role, and then you pay up. Got it?”
Fox Hill is their country club, but it apparently also has a secret, after-hours clubhouse where Callum Ames wants to use me to put on a show and impress his college buddies.
“I can’t wait to see you go to work on her.” He gives me that smile he gives all the girls. Like the one he gives Clay. “Make it hard. And hot. But if you don’t show,” he says, his tone suddenly stern. “It’s open season on you, Jaeger, and your whole family.”
“How do I know I can trust you to keep your end of the deal?” I ask.
He backs away. “When you have nothing, you really have nothing to lose, right?”
He smiles that fucking smug, I-own-the-world-and-you-know-it grin before pivoting and heads down the stairs and off the stage.
I hold up the key, wondering if he’s just stupid or too clever for me. Maybe I want the part bad enough. Maybe I do. My insides churn, not wanting to admit to myself that I’m not entirely sure how low I might sink in life if tempted. If you want something for so long, what price is too great?
But now I have the part.
And a key to his clubhouse.
I lift my chin, the wheels in my head starting to turn. And all without yet paying the toll.
I RUN MY hands down my thighs, the flesh of my nipples hardening as the air touches them.
“Bravado” plays on my phone, and I close my eyes as I sit at the end of my bed in my underwear, feeling the weight of his text sitting on my bed next to me.
Now, he orders. Let me see your stomach.
I’d ignored the text from Callum last night, figuring I’d make up some excuse that I fell asleep or something. There was no way I was texting anyone pictures of myself.
I promise him that my clothes will look better off in person.
Eventually, he’ll want me to prove it.
My mind drifts, the words coming again—against my neck in a whisper tucked away and hidden in tight spaces and dark places.
Just the two of us.
Now, he orders. Let me see your stomach.
But it’s not his voice. I drop my head, breathing hard. It’s not his voice I hear at all. My clit throbs, my nipples harden to pebbles, and I rub my thighs together, aching. “Goddammit,” I murmur.
I push off the bed and yank my school skirt out of my closet. I pull it on, followed by a bra and a white blouse, before diving into my bathroom to straighten my hair and put on a little makeup.
I stare at myself in the mirror as I spread the lip gloss.
He’ll feel good. He’ll feel good when he stands behind me, his naked torso against my back. His eyes will peer over my head as his strong, muscular arms slip around my waist, and he’ll take in the view of my body in the mirror, my shirt off for him. I can’t wait for him to touch me. He’s dying for it.
I dab some toothpaste onto a toothbrush and brush my teeth, imagining his hands gliding over my thighs and between my legs, and then I swish some mouthwash, locking on my gaze in the mirror.