Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80197 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80197 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
"I'm sorry to hear that," I say, frowning. "But are you seriously calling to ask me to drive over and help you?"
"I'm seriously asking that. Forget asking, I'm begging. I don't know what the hell I'm doing. They're going to kick me out, and then I won't be around for any more booty calls."
The desperation in her voice is real, and although I like to pretend to be an asshole, when a friend is in need, I can never say no.
Groaning, I slide my legs off the edge of the bed and reach for my discarded sweatpants. "Message me the address."
"You're an angel," she squeals. "Did anyone ever tell you that?"
"No."
I hang up, trying to find a clean shirt. I really need to do some laundry. Maybe I could do some at Celine's sister's house? Kill two birds with one stone. I reply to her message, asking if using the washer and dryer would be out of the question. She replies, Bring your stinky clothes, and I'll do your laundry as payback. I counter-reply with Pussy is payback. Laundry I can manage on my own.
Pulling all my dark clothes out of the hamper, I stuff them into my gym bag and lumber to my car. The air is cool, which wakes me up from my evening drowsiness. I toss the bag into my trunk and climb into my car, tapping the address into Google Maps.
Celine's sister's house is fifteen minutes away in a nice neighborhood of small family homes. Celine's car is in the driveway, but I pull up on the road outside. A wide porch area flanks the front door, with a few nice pots of flowers and shrubbery. Her niece, Lonie, has a plastic playhouse and a trike in the corner.
When I make it off the sidewalk with my bag held high on my shoulder, Celine's standing in the open doorway. She has her hair drawn into a high ponytail with wispy bits framing her face. There's a pen stuck in it and a deep v grooved between her brows. I wait for her to thank me for making the trip, but she doesn't. Instead, as I get close, she presses a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth and puts out her hands for the bag.
I follow her inside, enjoying the way her ass looks in camel-colored sweatpants. Her feet are bare, and her toes are painted in a light orange, reminding me of her original hair color.
The home is filled with warmth. Family photos are on practically every wall and surface, kiddie paintings spread over the refrigerator, and toys littering the area in front of the TV. Celine has her books spread out over the kitchen island, but she walks past them and into a small side room. "I'll put these into the washer first. Hopefully, there's a fast wash setting so we can get them dried before you leave."
"Your sister won't mind?"
"Marie is grateful that I drop everything whenever she needs me."
I wince as Celine pulls my training clothes out of the bag and stuffs them into the drum. Coach has us working hard, and my stuff is usually wet by the time I'm done. Wet and stinky. "Doesn't your mom do this stuff for you?" she asks.
I don't reply because telling Celine anything about my family is off tonight's agenda. "This is a nice house. Has your sister lived here long?"
Celine twists to look at me, then stands to shut the washer door. "A couple of years. They moved here when she was pregnant with Lonie. They wanted a yard for her to play in."
Her boobs look good in her white V-neck shirt. It shows off her creamy cleavage, dusted with pretty freckles.
"Makes sense."
I saunter back into the kitchen and take a seat on a stool next to the one Celine vacated to open the door.
"So, tell me what you need."
She takes a seat and begins to explain the areas of confusion. It's nothing I find difficult, so I do my best to go through each point step by step. She takes notes in scribbled handwriting that I struggle to read. Maybe that's her problem. She can't read her own writing.
After thirty minutes, I see her eyes light up. "Oh my god, I get it."
I shrug one shoulder and then stretch my arms over my head, leaning so my spine bends and my back cracks. My body aches from training, but the ache in my balls is something else entirely. That's good. You ready to fuck now?"
Her narrowed gaze only narrows further when I snort. I make my pecs jump, first one, then the other, knowing it's a douche move that is going to piss her off.
It does.
"Can you chill out? My niece is asleep upstairs."
"Is she in a crib?"
"Yes." Confusion clouds her expression.