Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
I reach down and rub my hand on my hard dick as I watch her. “Look at me, Hartford.”
Her thick lashes flutter open, and she stares at me. The heat I see in her caramel irises causes me to curse under my breath.
“Hartford, I thought that was you.”
Fuck.
I quickly turn off the vibrator as Hartford’s pink cheeks turn a deep shade of red.
“Oh, hi, Claire.”
I glance up and smile at Claire, along with the other gossipy women from the local Biddies Book Club, aka the Busybodies. They’re a funky bunch, with a few blue-haired women in the group. The others sport gray bobs, and Helen has a head full of white hair. Sure, they read books and discuss them, but they love to discuss all the gossip they can get their older hands on more. They’re nice, but lonely. They’re all either divorced or widowed and the book club is their life. Their big-mouthed gossiping lives.
“How is your mom doing? We miss having her in the club,” Claire says, patting Hartford’s shoulder.
Awkward.
“Oh, she’s good. Mom and Dad love being down in Florida visiting.”
“That’s great. And what about you? How’s everything?” Her gaze zips to me before looking back at Hartford and pulling her pink shawl further up her shoulders. “Any new love interest?”
“Nope, nothing like that. Paxton and I are just friends.”
Laughter erupts from the group, but when Claire, the apparent spokesman for the Biddies, stops first, the others follow suit.
What is this, some kind of mob bullshit? A book club mob?
The Biddies believe most of the Atwood brothers are players and a decent woman shouldn’t waste her time, so it doesn’t bother me or shock me. I’ve heard much worse.
“We know that, Hartford. You’re holding out for a decent young man.”
I pick up my phone and grin. “Nothing decent about me,” I say, hitting mode one.
“No,” Hartford whispers under her breath, narrowing her eyes at me.
I turn it off, even though what I want is for the Biddies to walk away and let Hartford and me get back to where we were.
The server arrives with our food, and the book club ladies step out of her way.
“Well, we’ll let you get back to your dinner.” Claire smiles at Hartford but gives me such an evil eye that I wonder if she just put a spell on me.
Thankfully, the Biddies move along to prey on another table of victims.
“That was fun,” I say, spearing my steak with my knife.
“Not uncomfortable at all.” Hartford pushes her plate to the side and takes a sip of water as she stares at me.
“You want more, don’t you?” I grin and take a bite of my potatoes.
“Shush.”
“No, don’t do that. It was fun and you know it.”
She bites her lip and nods, blushing slightly. “It was.”
I don’t ask again. I just pick up my phone. This time I don’t warm her up. I know what she can handle and I go right for mode three. She lets out a soft moan as she squirms in her seat. Her eyes lift to mine and that heat is right back, making my cock harden again.
I take a risk and switch to the fourth mode. She nearly jumps out of the seat. Her body movements and the way she’s biting her lip pull us right back into that sexual bubble.
“Hartford, fuck,” I say, stopping myself from saying something I might regret. Something like, ‘I want to replace this vibrator with my mouth, or I want to bend you over this table and finish you off.’
“Oh god,” she breathes out as I switch to mode five.
Just then my phone rings and it’s Tripp. I quickly end the call, keeping my eyes on Hartford.
“Bro, Cooter ball is like the new thing for real,” Tripp’s voice rings out from my phone at full volume.
“Dammit,” I grumble, realizing I put him on speakerphone. I swiftly scan the area, ensuring no one heard him while I tap on the phone.
“Pax, turn the vibrator off,” Hartford half moans and half hisses, and I panic, trying to end the call. I pound my finger against the phone, but it doesn’t hang up. Something else happens.
“Oh fuck,” I say, glancing from my phone to Hartford.
“What?
“I accidentally deleted the app.”
“Paxton, you there?” Tripp says.
“Hang up,” I tell my brother. I finally end his call, trying my best to pull up the app that’s no longer visible on the screen.
“What?” she says, followed by a breathy moan. “Seriously, Paxton, turn it off. It’s too much.”
I pull up the download for the app and hit it, but the Wi-Fi sucks, and it’s barely moving. I lift my eyes to hers and the heat is gone, replaced by panic.
“I’m trying, but the Wi-Fi is terrible.” I run my hand down my face, trying to think. “Just take it off.”
She shakes her head, trying to fight against the vibrations. “It’ll look like I’m touching myself.”