Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
“Ten thirty.” I keep my interrogative gaze on Sam as I remove Ava from the stool and sit, putting her between my open thighs, peeking at Kate when I have a quick nuzzle of Ava’s neck, seeing the red-headed firecracker doing a terrible job of looking cool, looks being thrown around left and right. Oh God, is what I think happening actually happening? My eyes go back to Drew. His eyebrows rise. Shit. I move my eyes to Sam. He’s refusing to look at me now. The dickhead. Never in the years I’ve known him has he spent the night at a woman’s house. Never in the time I’ve known him has he left The Manor to go see a woman who isn’t a member. And now he’s planning on sharing that woman and, worse, with one of his best mates? Fucking hell. This stinks of shitstorm.
I shake my head at them, not that they see, and realign my focus on the woman in my arms, licking her neck. “I want to lay you on that bar and take my time peeling all of this lace off.” I roll my hips up, like I need to be making my night any harder. Figuratively speaking and literally speaking. “What’s under the dress?”
“More lace.”
“You’re fucking killing me.”
“You have to stop.”
“Never.” I continue with my assault, breathing heavily, increasing the pressure behind my trousers and she lets me.
“You guys.”
I jolt with the assistance of a slap on my back, thanks to Kate.
“Put her down.”
“Yeah,” Sam pipes up. “You’re restraining our sexual needs, but it’s okay for you to sit there and fondle your girl?”
“Try and stop me.” I toss him a tired look. Someone needs to restrain them. This has disaster written all over it. “I’ll shut up shop now and take her home.”
“You’re trampling your mates now,” Ava says over a laugh, the others joining her. Don’t care. I am very aware of the attention my behavior is drawing. Don’t care. Every set of eyes are observing the impenetrable Lord of The Manor giving his soul attention to one woman. Pussy-whipped. Don’t care. I get back to fondling my girl, biting at her neck, sucking, probably marking her. Again, don’t care. Don’t care, don’t care, don’t care. And isn’t that the beauty of being in love?
“Who’s that?”
“Who’s who?” I ask, looking up, wiping at my mouth. Ava doesn’t get the chance to point her out, because it had to be a her, didn’t it? I spot Coral by the entrance to the bar, and my stomach turns. Fuck. What the fuck are John and Sarah playing at letting her in? But then her disposition registers. She’s not drunk. She doesn’t appear indignant. She looks lost. Hopeless.
Each one of my muscles tenses as she starts to walk over, and Sam and Drew abruptly shut up when they clock her. This is not ideal, and I have absolutely no fucking idea how to handle it. But I do know I don’t need Coral around Ava. Fuck knows what she’ll say. So I stand and move out, sitting Ava back down on the stool, feeling her looking at me with probing, accusing eyes. This isn’t going to go down well.
But what fucking choice do I have?
“Coral,” I say quietly, dodging Ava’s eyes. “Do you want to come to my office?”
She opens her mouth to talk, her hands working circles, but no words materialize, so she weakly nods instead.
“Come on.” I can’t just walk away from Ava, not if I want my balls intact when I return, so I brave facing her. She looks in a state of shock. Disbelief? And no words come to me. Nothing. And even if they did, I don’t expect they’d have the desired effect. So I walk away without a word, hoping she’ll hear me—forgive me—when I play this down.
Coral turns and I see her wobble, prompting me to instinctively reach forward, ready to catch her. She’s not drunk. I know she’s not drunk. I’ve seen her in a state enough to know when she’s under the influence. Emotional? Or just plain fucking exhausted by life?
I give John wide eyes as I pass him. He gets my message and immediately announces dinner. I do not need Ava sitting there stewing. Who am I kidding? She’ll stew, no matter where she is and what she’s doing, so John announcing dinner fifteen minutes early is not going to help me out.
I feel Ava’s eyes on my back as I walk Coral out of the bar, and I look to the heavens for some mercy. Just a little fucking mercy. What was I to do? Cause a scene? Tell Coral to fuck off? I’m not stupid, and I’m not a monster.
I am, however, fucked.
I guide her through the array of tables in the summer room, and Sarah spots us, her body unbending from over the table, her eyes worried when they land on mine. She knows Coral could kick off. Today, though, I didn’t see any fight in her. Just hopelessness and sadness.