Total pages in book: 214
Estimated words: 199879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 999(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 666(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 999(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 666(@300wpm)
She pulls onto the road, her headlights shining on the gravel. So many cars are parked on both sides that it’s hard to get through. Finding an opening, she darts into it, pulling her car to a stop in a grassy area.
We get out and make our way over to where the bonfire is. “You need a drink,” she laughs.
“Yeah,” I agree. Between my parents, Saint, and now my brother, I need to get out of my own head. The fact that I can’t get off is eating at me. Is this how they feel when they’re told they can’t fuck?
I mean, how will he even know? It’s not like I live with him. We’ve got classes, and he’s always got meetings at the house of Lords. Not to mention, he has to go to Carnage most days. My father spends most, if not all, of his time there. I’m not sure what the fuck he actually does, but I’d rather not know.
We make our way over to where a few tables are set up. Rows and rows of liquor sit out. A few guys stand behind them with a cooler by their feet. They’re filling Solo cups full of ice, then pouring the drinks.
Others who walk around have their own drinks. “Hey ladies, what can we get you?” asks a guy I know from Barrington. His eyes drop to my chest, and I try to ignore the ache between my thighs that Saint left me with earlier. I wanted him to get me off again. A part of me wants to test how many times in a row my body can handle it.
“Surprise me.” I give him a smile.
“Hey, isn’t that your brother?” Marie taps my arm, pointing over to a group of guys.
He has his back turned to us, but it’s definitely him talking to a couple of guys. One I know better than the other. Tyson Crawford is a sophomore at Barrington this year. I’ve seen him hanging out with Saint at the house of Lords when I attended parties last year. The other guy is a senior. I only know him as Hooke. I’m not sure if that’s a last name or a nickname. But he’s a senior with the Spade brothers. “Grab my drink. I’ll be right back,” I tell her and don’t wait for a response.
I make my way over to them and interrupt their conversation. “Hey?” I say, yanking on Adam’s arm.
He turns around, looks down at me, and sighs, annoyed that I’m here. We’ve never been those twins you hear about who are so in tune that we can tell what the other feels or hear each other’s thoughts.
We don’t hang out very often. Even less so in the past few years. His life has always been devoted to the Lords, even before he started initiations. Then he had to move into the house of Lords our freshman year. No one in our family spends time with each other, though.
“What are you doing here, Ashtyn?” he asks, looking around over my head.
Hooke and Tyson stare blankly at me, and I avoid eye contact. Being around any Lord can be intimidating. They always make you feel small. Nonexistent. Especially the ones I’m not around normally. Makes me nervous. “I overheard you and Dad arguing back at the house,” I say, ignoring his question. I don’t have to tell him why I’m here. I’m an adult, and he doesn’t own this land.
Hooke and Tyson dismiss me and carry on with their previous conversation, and my brother runs his hand down his face. “Always being a snoop.”
“What was it about?” I place my hands on my hips.
He looks down at me, his green eyes narrowed with annoyance. “That’s none of your damn business.” Adam goes to walk off, but I follow him.
“Is it regarding the Lords?” I dig. They never tell me anything. Just enough to keep me guessing. I wonder if that’s what he was talking about with Tyson and Hooke. I should have listened before I interrupted.
“Fuck off, Ash,” he growls over his shoulder.
I place my hand on his arm. “Tell me—”
“Get the fuck away!” He spins around and shouts. Everyone who heard stops their conversations to stare at us.
“Are you…are you in trouble?” I ask softly. The Lords have no problem eliminating you if they feel that they can’t control you. He doesn’t meet my stare. Instead, he looks over my head, jaw clenching. “Can Dad help you?” I go on at his silence.
He gives a rough laugh. “No, Dad can’t help me.” His eyes drop to mine. “Just like he can’t make you a virgin again.”
My mouth falls open on a gasp, and his laughter grows. “What? Like it’s a secret that you’re a whore.”
“I am not,” I say defensively, and I wonder if Saint already told him what I did earlier in my bedroom at our parents’ house. I’m not dumb. I know guys brag when they fuck a girl. And although we didn’t fuck, I did act like a fool and ride his thigh. I was exactly what Saint wanted me to be—his needy fucking whore.