Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 184867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 924(@200wpm)___ 739(@250wpm)___ 616(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 184867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 924(@200wpm)___ 739(@250wpm)___ 616(@300wpm)
“Yet you happily moaned to my filth,” I muse.
Her cheeks turn the same color as the beets in the salad. “Can you not say that out loud? Jesus,” she hisses, looking around to see if her mom heard, but she’s still in the kitchen busy with the spatula in some atrocious dish to impress my dad with mediocre cooking. Why he bothers coming here to eat when we’ve got cooks back at home is beyond me.
“And for the record, those weren’t moans. They were gasps of shock.”
“Right.” I shove the last piece of steak into my mouth. “Just like that wetness between your thighs were just tears of joy.”
Her jaw drops so far I swear it’s going to hit the table, and all I can do is grin.
She promptly pulls up the magazine again to block me from looking at her, but I’ve seen enough already to know the goddamn truth.
She’s still thinking about my handprint on her ass, and so am I. In fact, I haven’t been able to stop fantasizing about it and jerking myself off to the mere memory, wondering when I can fuck around with her next.
But this whole barbecue thing with my dad and her mom is really making it hard.
Harder than my dick ever will be.
Fuck.
“You’re imagining things if you think I enjoyed that,” she hisses from behind her women’s magazine.
I plop some cherry tomatoes in my mouth. “And you’re lying to yourself, so I guess we’re both delusional here.”
“I am not,” she retorts.
“Yes, you are.” She glances over her magazine just when I swallow, and her eyes immediately follow my Adam’s apple as it moves up and down. “Want me to prove it?”
“You’re despicable,” she hisses. “And I’m trying to read.”
I snort and pick up more cherry tomatoes. “Didn’t know you could read upside down.”
She smashes the magazine down on the table and growls at me. Actually fucking growls. And I don’t know why, but I love the sound coming from her pretty little mouth.
Which is fucked up because I fucking hate her for inserting her mom and herself into my life.
I start laughing.
“What are you doing?” she mutters.
“What does it look like?”
She swipes her blond hair to the back. “Stop laughing at me.”
“You make it hard not to laugh,” I retort, biting my lip piercing when I see the anger in her eyes.
I’ve always had a thing for people getting mad at me. I can’t help it. It eggs me on and gets me hard. And she makes it so damn difficult not to get excited.
She picks up a cherry tomato and chucks it at my face. “Stop. Just stop it.”
Right then, her mom comes back out with a pitcher of cold water and a whole lot of silence, which seems to overwhelm everyone here.
“Well, you don’t have to stop talking because of me,” her mom muses. “Go on, talk with each other.”
“I have nothing to say to him,” Crystal says, piercing a sliced strawberry with her fork.
My eyes home in on her fork as she brings it to her lips, and I can’t help but focus on that delicious tongue as it wraps around the strawberry and plucks it off the fork.
Good God.
“Crystal, that’s not nice,” her mom scolds.
I shift in my seat to hide the boner and clear my throat. “It’s fine. I don’t want to be here either.”
“Caleb!” my father growls from right behind me.
He leans over me to place a plate with more steaks on the table.
“Can’t you two get along?” he asks me. “You’d do me a big favor if you could just be a gentleman for once.”
“Him? A gentleman?” Crystal scoffs, snorting loudly.
I tilt my head as she stares right back into my eyes, and fuck me, it makes me want to grab her and bend her over this very fucking table to show her just how much of a fucking gentleman I can be.
“Bitch,” I retort.
“Caleb!” My dad shoves me.
Crystal scoots her chair back. “Let me help you in the kitchen, Mom.”
Crystal throws me a snooty look, but I ignore it as she heads to the kitchen.
“Really, Caleb?” my dad scolds me.
“What? I don’t fucking like her. Big deal.”
“Don’t. Don’t fucking do this.” He breathes out a big sigh. “Not today. Please.”
I roll my eyes.
“Go make up with her,” he says, pointing at the kitchen. “Now.”
Reluctantly, I scoot my chair back too and saunter into the kitchen. She’s cutting a cucumber lying on a wooden board, maybe a little too hard.
The closer I get, the harder her cuts become, like she’s trying to slice through the board itself.
Or me.
I lick my lips and watch her seethe.
She’s probably still thinking about all the things I did to her to make her filthy as hell.
Just as filthy as me.
I approach her from behind, placing both hands on the counter so I can look over her shoulder.