Total pages in book: 175
Estimated words: 164346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 822(@200wpm)___ 657(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 822(@200wpm)___ 657(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
“I’ll be there in twenty.” She hangs up. I set my cell down on the counter and make my way to my room and to my closet, leaving the mess of broken glass in the kitchen. I start digging through my clothes, looking for the most revealing thing I own. The motherfucker burned my skirt. Fuck him!
Smiling, I pull the dress off the rack. “Perfect.”
I get undressed and step into the skirt, pulling it up to my waist. Then I raise the two pieces of fabric up and around my neck. Turning, I look at myself in the mirror and the crisscross halter cut-out dress. It shows off my stomach, chest, and all of my back. The crisscross material barely covers my tits. Looking down, I pull on the string on my right thigh, making the skirt bunch up even more.
Twenty minutes later, we’re walking into Blackout. It’s a four-story club on the outskirts of town. “Have you been here before?” I ask her while we check our stuff in at the front. No way am I carrying it all around with me while I dance and drink. Plus, me drunk with a phone isn’t smart right now. I don’t want to drunk text Ryat when I’m horny at two o’clock in the morning. Or do something worse like send him pics of my pussy while in the bathroom.
“No. Janice was telling me about it the other day.”
I nod. Of course, our neighbor did. Last year, Sarah and I were woken up at three in the morning because the cops were banging on her door. They found drugs inside her place, and she spent three weeks in jail. We had to feed her cat and water the plants for her.
We shoulder our way past the crowd, and I grab the bar for stability. I should have worn flats. I’ve already had so much to drink; I’m going to be crawling out of here after closing.
A bartender walks over to us. “What will it be?” he yells out to us.
I go to hand him my bank card to start a tab when a guy beside me slides a hundred across the bar. “I got their drinks, Benny.”
Looking up, I see a pair of dark eyes staring at me. A smirk covers his unshaven face, and his eyes drop to my tits.
“No thanks.” I dismiss him, slapping my card on top of the bar.
He snorts. “Come on, let us buy your drinks for the night.”
“Us?” Sarah asks.
“Name’s Nathan,” a guy to her right introduces himself, placing his forearm on the bar. “And this here is my friend Mitch.” He gestures to the one next to me.
“Well, thanks for the offer, Nathan and Mitch, but we’re good.” I look at the bartender. “Rum and Coke. Two, please.”
“Oh, come on.” The one next to me picks up my card, and his free hand grabs my forearm. “You should be grateful we’re offering to take care of you for the night.” That smirk returns to his face. “You can pay us back later.”
His words anger me. He expects us to get on our hands and knees and kiss his fucking shoes because he’s offering to pay what? Maybe a couple of hundred dollars on drinks for us tonight? “No, thanks,” I repeat and yank my arm away from him as I take my card from the other.
“Hey—”
“It wasn’t a fucking hint, asshole.” Sarah snaps, cutting him off. “The answer is no. Pick two different girls.” She grabs my hand, yanking me from the bar. “Come on,” she growls. “There are other bars here to get drinks at inside this club.”
Looking back at them over my shoulder, I see another guy join them, but his back is toward me, so I can’t get a look at his face. But I see a tattoo on the back of his neck that looks like a spider crawling out from underneath the collar of his shirt. My eyes go to the one who introduced himself as Mitch, and he’s already glaring at me. Giving him my back, I throw my hair over my shoulder.
Fuck him!
RYAT
I HATE CLUBS. I’m not much of a partier. Even throughout high school, I didn’t go to many. I hate people in general. Then you mix alcohol and drugs with it, and I just can’t deal with them.
The house of Lords throws parties all the time, and although I tolerate them, I don’t drink at them. Too many opportunities for shit to go wrong. I prefer to be levelheaded and in control. That way, if something goes down, I can handle it.
So, the fact that Gunner and I are at Blackout isn’t helping my already sour mood. I’ve left Blakely alone since she threw her little fit earlier today at Barrington, but then Gunner called me and said we had a situation. I’m not happy about it.