Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 116362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
“I like it as it is,” she says, though I can tell she hates to admit it. “What would you pick?”
“Do you really need to ask?”
“Right. Sex. Do you even need a plot for that?”
“Actually,” I tell her, happy to prove her wrong. “There are plenty of erotic novels that have a plot. Last Tango in Paris. The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty. Delta of Venus.”
“The last was fifteen short stories,” Amanda points out. “Should I wonder why you know all this stuff? Your father peddling smut at your shop?”
“My father has an abhorrence toward anything remotely sexual in literature. He doesn’t even stock Lolita.”
“That’s a shame,” she says. “Good use of the word abhorrence by the way. If I knew better, I’d say you were trying to impress me.”
What a peculiar girl. There’s a tone of playfulness in her voice that I’ve never heard before. Maybe I am impressing her. About bloody time.
“So you want to hear the plot or not?” I ask.
“On second thought, not,” she says, and she’s back to being made of stone, cold and immovable. “I like betrayal though. Let’s do that. You know, if we have to.”
Little does she realize how easily sex works its way into the subject. But she’ll find out soon enough.
We spend the next hour going over characters and hashing out the skeleton of the plot, as well as figuring out who is going to write what. Even though it was my idea, and even though Amanda said she didn’t care if I did all the work, I can see the prissy control freak starting to come out and take over. It’s tempting to let her to make things easier, but at the same time I want to battle her for everything she’s got.
“So,” she says, pausing as we exit the library just before it closes. “Treebeard, eh?”
“What about her?” I ask.
“A Lord of the Rings reference,” she says, looking off across the dim lights of the parking lot. Night has settled in. “You do a pretty good job of keeping your inner nerd a secret.”
I grin at her, throwing my head back. “I’m not keeping anything a secret. It’s hard for girls to focus on anything else except my good looks and big dick.”
Her eyes roll to the heavens, lips curled like she’s about to spit something out of her mouth. “Pig,” she mutters, turning away. “I’ll see you later.”
I’m tempted to yell “prude” after her but I know that’s a total playground maneuver, so I just watch her climb into her Mini Cooper, another rich girl accessory. While she speeds out of the parking lot, I can’t help but feel a strange tremor of excitement run through me. Not about working with her—definitely not about that. But this project, this idea which just a few hours ago was dormant in my head, is now a living breathing egg ready to hatch. I haven’t felt that creativity, that drive, for a long time. Maybe it’s the right thing to get my work-in-progress back on track.
Too bad I still have to deal with Amanda during this whole process.
And it’s too bad that when I’m jerking off in bed later that night, the image that pops into my head is her wet ruby lips around my cock. I come so hard at that, it takes me a few moments to catch my breath, the room spinning.
Looks like the next month is going to be hell after all.
CHAPTER 5
Amanda
“So how did it go last night?” Ana asks me the next morning as I settle down at the kitchen table with my coffee and a protein shake. No sign of turnip pancakes to be found, though this morning I think she’s been practicing her contouring because her face is looking mighty Kardashian with a bit of 90’s RuPaul thrown in there.
When I came in last night after the library, Ana was still out and I was absolutely zonked, even though the minute my head hit the pillow my brain started churning over and over the meeting with Blake.
“It wasn’t as bad as I thought,” I tell her before taking a timid sip of the scalding hot liquid.
And that’s true. I mean, it kind of started out that way. There was no way I was going to let him forget the email he sent, even if I had to eat crow for a moment over that morning. Then there was the fact that he so clearly knew he’d been a total jackass to me in the past and yet pretended like it had slipped his mind.
Ana raises one eyebrow, a trooper fighting the Botox on her forehead. “You want to have sex with him now?”
I spit my coffee right out across the table and start coughing, my face growing red, tears welling. Ana calmly hands me a roll of paper towel.