Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 85183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Tor comes back, perching on the edge of my sun lounger. I place my hand on her thigh, pushing her dress up slightly. She cocks an eyebrow and shoves my hand away with a smirk. I'm determined to get her knocked up again, and she's not having any of it.
I look up when Marney clears his throat, and I choke on a laugh. Tor struggles to keep a straight face. He's wearing a vest, and his tattooed arms are covered in nicotine patches. He's one week into giving up smoking. Tor has tried to explain to him that you're supposed to wean off the fucking patches, but shit, he must be wearing at least ten of the fucking things. He slaps one on my arm.
"You need to give up too," he grumbles. "It's not good for the little'n."
Tor buries her face in my chest, but her shoulders shake as she laughs. I nod. "Sure thing, old man."
"Give me that baby," he says, taking Cayla from my chest. "It's my turn." He huffs and walks back inside the house rocking Cayla in his arms.
Tor laughs hysterically. "Oh, shit, he's so grumpy!" she howls.
"He has a point though. I should fucking quit.”
"No!" She scowls at me.
"No? Fuck, you better be glad you aren't a fucking doctor, with that damn attitude we'd be filing bankruptcy from the goddamn lawsuits."
Her lips kick up at one side. "But I like that you smell of cigarettes," she says, a slight blush creeping over her cheeks. "It really..." she moves to straddle me, leaning forward as she teases her lips over my neck. "Really, does it for me."
"Oh, no, doll," I growl into her ear, nipping at it. "I know what fucking does it for you." I push her up, bringing my face inches from hers as I lace my fingers around her neck. "You like it when I treat you like a dirty whore..." I bite her bottom lip, and she moans against my mouth.
My hands skim up her thighs, brushing between them, and my cock hardens. I slip my finger beneath the edge of her underwear, and then...
"Hey! Hey!" Marney shouts from the door to the living room, and I hear Cayla fussing. "She's crying and she tried sucking on my neck. I think she wants some food."
I groan, resting my head on Tor's chest. "You're up, dairy cow." I slap her ass, and she glares at me.
"Arsehole," she mumbles, getting up, and taking Cayla. "I'll be upstairs if you need me."
I sit staring out at the waters, reflecting on the past year when my phone rings. I pick it up from the table and pull it to my ear. "Go ahead, partner..."
"This is Redcoat thirty three. I want to place a bet on St. Louis. Bottom five, half ten."
"Alright," I say. "St. Louis. Bottom five. Half ten."
I don’t want to be Jude Pearson, infamous bookie, but sometimes, no matter how much you want to put the past behind you, you can’t escape who you are.
I did make a fucking deal after all, and it was for more than a few names...
The. Fucking. End.