Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
I laugh sarcastically. “Like you would know what a self-respecting boyfriend is supposed to do.”
He turns to me, annoyed. “Oh, and you would?”
I smile and wink as I sip my beer.
“Anyway, there I am, knowing damn well I have to fuck Marie now. I swear, I’m nearly crying.”
Seb and I burst out laughing, and Seb slaps the table. “Fuck me, man, this is the best story ever.”
Spence’s eyes widen. “It isn’t over yet. Let me tell you, that Viagra kicked back in and I regained my super-human strength again, but I can’t come.”
We both lean forward, waiting to hear how this ends.
“I’m fucking and fucking and fucking, and I can’t come.” He sips his beer. “My dick has literally got no skin left on it, burning like a motherfucker. Now I really am almost crying.”
Seb and I are laughing out loud as we imagine our stupid friend fucking with a sore dick.
“What did you do?” Seb gasps for air, trying to regain control.
“I did what I had to do.”
I frown. “What’s that?”
“I faked it.”
“You faked it?” I gasp.
He nods and sips his drink. “Yep.”
The table falls silent. None of us has ever faked it before. I wouldn't know how to.
“Then Marie calls me today. She says the other night was fun and could we do it again tonight. She wants Ricky to join us, too.”
We all lean closer to him, waiting to hear his response.
“I told her I was out of town.”
Seb’s face twists in disgust.
“Why would you do that?” I frown.
“Because I have no skin left on my fucking dick, man. I need a skin graft. It is literally grazed like a third-degree burn.” He shakes his head and we all burst out laughing. “If I wasn’t circumcised already, I would have been after that.”
I wince. “Who is this chick with the iron snatch?”
Seb chuckles. “My new drug dealer.”
Brielle
It’s 9:30 p.m. and the walk up the hall toward the main house feels long. I’ve been watching from my darkened spot in the glass hallway for the last fifteen minutes. Mr. Masters is still in his suit, obviously unable to relax until this meeting is over.
Not a good sign.
I walk up the six stairs and around the corridor until I come into his view. He’s in the kitchen, filling his thick glass tumbler with ice.
“Hello.” I smile meekly.
He turns to face me. “Hello.” He gestures to the stool at the island bench. “Please, sit down.”
I slink into the chair and watch as he pours scotch over his ice, and then takes a seat opposite me.
He rolls his lips and takes a sip.
“Miss Brielle,” he sighs.
“Brelly,” I correct.
He raises his eyebrows. “No offence, but I’m not calling you Brelly. You’re not an umbrella.”
I bite my bottom lip to stifle my smile. I feel like I am in the principle’s office about to be expelled from school. He’s wearing an expensive navy suit with a white shirt. His dark hair is longer on the top, with a curl running through it, and he has the squarest jaw I think I’ve ever seen. His eyes are big and brown, and… he really is very good looking.
“I don’t think this is going to work out,” he says calmly, slicing my thoughts in two.
“What?” I whisper.
He gives a subtle shake of his head. “I’m sorry, I just—”
“Is this about this morning?” I interrupt.
“Brielle, I deal with liars and thieves all day at work. I don’t have the energy to have someone living under my roof who I don’t trust.”
“You… you can trust me,” I stammer. “I’m the most honest person you could ever meet. Too honest, in fact. Ask anybody.”
He sips his drink, and his cold eyes hold mine.
“Ask me anything. Ask me anything right now and I will tell you the whole truth, I promise.”
He lifts his chin. “All right then, what did you say to Willow this morning?”
My face falls. Oh, he had to ask that, didn’t he?
I swallow the lump in my throat. That little snitch. If I wasn’t already getting fired, I definitely am now.
“I think it went something like…” I readjust my position in my seat, and he raises an eyebrow, waiting. My heart begins to beat fast.
“I asked her if that was what her game was? To be an evil little bitch until the nanny’s run away. And then I asked her if she tries and makes their lives a living hell.”
He narrows his eyes.
"And then I asked her if her daddy comes to her rescue every time."
He glares at me and bites his bottom lip, as if he’s stopping himself from snapping or yelling.
I cringe openly. “And then she said something along the lines of ‘fuck you, stay out of my fucking way.’ So I warned her not to fucking speak to me like that in front of Samuel ever again. I don’t give a fuck if she doesn’t like me, but I will not put up with her upsetting him.” I shrug. “Give or take a few insults.”