Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 133224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
I wince. “The evidence does support that.”
“Don’t ever call me again.” She disappears around the corner, and I drag my hand down my face.
Don’t worry. I wasn’t planning on it.
“Let’s get into the spa.” Sara smiles. She gets off the chaise longue and leans over me, putting her two hands on my knees. “You’re quiet tonight, baby.” She kisses me softly.
“I’ll be in in a minute.”
“He is quiet today, isn’t he?” Michelle replies. She runs her hand through my hair. “A spa with your two favorite girls will help.” She leans over and kisses me, her lips lingering over mine. “Come on.” She gets up and grabs my hand.
“I’ve just got to make a call. Be there in a sec,” I tell her.
She takes off into the bedroom, and I sit alone on the couch. I hear the tap turn on as they fill the bath, and I can hear them talking with excitement in their voices.
This is nothing new. I’ve been fucking around with these two naughty girls for years.
Roommates, friends, hot, sexy, and willing to share my cock. Not a common combination at all.
So why the fuck am I just not into it tonight?
“Grayson,” Michelle calls. “Hope you’re warming yourself up out there.”
I puff air into my cheeks. What the hell is wrong with me lately?
I thought that if anyone could pull me out of my funk, it would be these two.
Snap out of it.
I haven’t had sex in four weeks, and sure, a piercing has had some hand in that, but deep down I know who’s had a bigger one.
And I can’t even like her.
Because she doesn’t feel the same.
The tap turns off, and I hear the girls giggling and chatting as they slip into the water. We’ve had hundreds of baths together, the three of us.
Some nights we spend hours in there. Talking, fucking, taking turns—you name it, and it happens.
Lately, though . . . something’s missing.
And I would love to blame the girls, or the situation, or anything really, but the truth is . . .
It’s me.
Something’s changing in my DNA, and like a train barreling toward a broken track, I can feel myself unraveling with no idea how to put the brakes on.
I need to sort my shit out.
Fast.
I drag myself up off the couch and walk into the bathroom. The girls are naked and in the water. Big, beautiful breasts and bare skin. Normally I’d be rock hard and in there.
Tonight . . . nothing.
Michelle gets up on her knees and curls her finger in a come-here signal. “Grayson,” she whispers darkly. “Get over here. I’ve missed you.”
I can’t do this.
“Bad news.” I walk over and lean down and kiss Michelle first and then Sara. “I’ve got to go.”
“What?” They both flinch.
“I’ve got an emergency at work,” I lie.
“We’ll be quick.” Sara stands, and water sloshes over the sides. “Get in here.”
“Ten minutes.” Michelle grabs for me. “Seriously, I’ll make you come in three pumps.”
I step back, out of her reach. “Sorry, guys, rain check.” I turn, and to the sound of their protests, I hotfoot it out of there. I march to my car, get in, and take off at top speed, as if I’m being chased by a wild animal.
In essence, I am; a horny woman is not to be messed with. Two of them is a disaster.
I grip the steering wheel with white-knuckle force. I cannot believe I just did that.
What the actual fuck is wrong with me?
I drive and drive, and I don’t even know where to go because that has never happened to me before, and what now?
Where’s the fun guy who loves to punish naughty girls?
Partying is my entire identity.
It’s who I am. It’s what I love to do.
So why does it feel wrong all of a sudden?
Perspiration dusts my skin as a new fear unlocks, and I pull my car over to the side of the road.
What’s happening?
An hour later, I pull into my driveway and wait as the garage door slowly goes up.
I drive in, grab the tub of ice cream from the passenger seat, and walk back out front and hit the remote. The door slowly goes down. Before I can stop myself, I walk over to Rebecca’s.
What are you doing?
I don’t even try to stop myself.
I walk up her front steps. “Barry, no,” I hear Rebecca’s voice call from inside.
Knock, knock.
The door opens, and there she stands, pajamas, green face mask, and her hair in crooked pigtails. “Hi.” She smiles.
I hold out the tub of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream. “I brought you a present.”
“Oh, chocolate crunch. I love you.” She goes up onto her tippy-toes and hugs me, and I snap my arm around her waist to hold her closer.
If only she really did.
“That shit on your face smells toxic,” I whisper into her hair.