Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 91434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
She grips my wrist to stop me. “You play with me anymore, and I’m going to soak the fucking seat”—I smirk at her—“and you won’t get to tease me all night.”
“Baby, I really hope you napped today.” I pull my fingers out of her and suck her off my fingers. “Because unless you pass out when I’m fucking you, it’s going to be a long night.”
Chapter Thirty-One
EVERLEIGH
He puts my skirt down, covering me before he pulls me forward, making the anal plug go deeper in my ass. “You look so beautiful,” he says. I stop breathing, and it’s not from the pressure in my ass or the way he just made me come in his car. It’s the softness of his voice.
“You aren’t so bad yourself.” I lean over the middle console and kiss his lips, sweeping my tongue into his mouth.
I get out of the truck and walk to the back, where he waits for me. “How are you doing?” he asks, and I look over at him.
“I feel full.” I wink at him. “And fucking horny.” He shakes his head as we walk down the sidewalk to the bar. “How long are we staying here?” I ask as I hear music coming from the open door. “Like, are we talking an hour, or are we talking having a drink and then leaving?”
“I’m going to keep you on your toes,” he informs me as we walk in, and I spot it’s full. “There are too many people here. We should go.”
He leans in. “You’ll get my cock soon enough,” he teases, walking into the bar, and I follow him. The whole time, my pussy clenches.
We make it to the bar and spot a couple of empty stools. “You want to sit down?” he asks, and I glare at him. “You should sit.”
“I think I’ll stand,” I reply as he pulls out the stool, and the bartender approaches us.
“What can I get you?” he asks, tossing down two coasters.
“I’ll have the house blend,” Brock orders, then turns to me.
“I’ll have the same.” He nods at me and walks away.
“So tell me how you feel?” he asks, and I look around, spotting a couple of people I know, including Emmett.
“Like a bitch in heat,” I grit out between clenched teeth. Emmett spots us and walks over to us.
“Hey, you two,” he greets with a beer in his hand, leaning against the bar with his elbow. “Fancy seeing you two here.”
“How fancy?” Brock semi-glares at him, making me roll my lips and Emmett just laughs at him.
“Did you ever check your schedule”—Emmett looks at me—“and see when it’s a good time for you to come and take a ride with me?”
“She did.” Brock sticks his face into the conversation and puts a hand at my hip, gripping it tight. “It’s going to be the day after never.” Emmett just grins. “You can schedule her in right now.”
“Are you threatening my right-hand man?” Charlie walks up to Brock and slaps his shoulder and then squeezes.
“Who, me?” Brock feigns innocence. “I would never.”
“Is Autumn here?” I ask Charlie, and he shakes his head. “She forced me to come out and have a guys’ night.” He looks around. “I’m going back home in ten minutes and telling her no one was here.”
“You do know that she owns this bar.” Brock looks over at him. “And she can ask.”
“Yeah,” Charlie says, leaning on the bar with his elbows, “but by then, it’ll be over. She can’t get mad at me after the fact.”
“Um,” Emmett starts, “have you met your wife? She almost kicked you out of the house yesterday.”
“She did not.” Charlie glares at him. “She just locked the door and refused to open it until I did what she told me to do.”
“And what was that?” I ask Charlie.
“Get out of her hair,” he deadpans, making us all laugh. He looks over his shoulder at the door, his eyebrows going big.
“Since when did those two start dating?” Charlie looks over at the door, and I turn back to see Caleb walk in with Lilah beside him.
“He asked her out last week,” I fill him in. “She came to get a box of donuts for the guys at the barn.”
“And left with a fucking date,” Emmett snaps and turns back to watch them walk to the table with a group of guys. “Who the fuck is he anyway?”
“What’s it to you?” Brock asks him. Emmett turns back, and his eyes are almost in slits. “Word on the street is that you fucking hate her.” He pushes off the bar. “Even now, you are scowling at her.”
“First of all,” he snaps, grabbing his bottle of beer, “I don’t fucking hate her. She’s young, and she’s reckless. Second off, why don’t you mind your own business?” He walks away from us and heads to the table where the boys are.