Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Breck exhaled as he watched him go.
Across the table, Jay started laughing. “What the fuck is up with your ex-instructor, dude? I can’t decide if he wants to eat you or murder you in some alley.”
Ned snickered. “Shit. Or bend him over a couch.”
Tad shot Breck a look of curious surprise.
Great. Just fucking great.
Breck flipped off Jay and Ned. They were playing. He knew this. But he was drunk and, thanks to Kai, now freshly agitated.
Tad looked away, nursing his beer.
Jay, however, was much more enthusiastic with his booze. Grinning, he slid Breck one of his newly delivered, ice-cold drafts. “Race ya, you broody bitch. Loser drinks a shot.”
Breck scowled. He’d been challenged. In front of everyone. By Jay of all people. No way in hell could he decline. Thing was, he was already too damn drunk to be shot-gunning beer. Especially when every person at their table already knew who’d take the win.
Because Jay was a freakish, beer-guzzling god—whom no one could ever beat.
Still, Breck’s pride wouldn’t let him off the hook. A fact that punkass Jay loved to exploit the shit out of. “Whatever.” Swiping up the mug, he brought it to his lips and waited for the green.
“Go!” Marcie cried.
He started chugging.
Jay merely tipped his head and opened his gullet. Something Breck would never understand. How someone could just let beer flow down their throat like that, without any swallowing whatsoever in the middle.
Whatever the trick, Jay had it totally mastered, and proceeded to kick Breck’s inebriated ass. His empty mug hit the table. Breck still had a third of his left to go.
“Ha! Drink up, loser.”
Breck slid him a look. Then grabbed the nearest Cuervo shot and put it away. A foul fire burned down his throat. He grimaced, disgusted. “Man, that shit’s nasty.” He hated tequila.
Turning over his tiny glass, he carefully added it to their table’s pyramid—the one they’d steadily been building for the last two hours. “As the night’s VIP, I demand we change up the liquor choice.” He eyed Jay specifically. “And no Jägermeister, either.”
Tad laughed as Jay grumbled. Ned grinned, but seemed distracted by something over by the bar. Breck turned and followed his line of sight. Their server was approaching—with a tray full of shooters. Breck eyed the things, confused. No one ordered shooters. And what the hell kind were they anyway? They looked layered… and topped with... whipped cream?
She stopped at their table and beamed. “Blowjobs for the birthday boy. Compliments of Hottie McYummy Pants over at the bar.”
Breck stiffened, aghast. The rest of his posse just stared at the drinks—then, in unison, leaned around their server to look for said hottie.
He peered that way, too, already knowing who he’d find.
Kai.
Smiling roguishly back at him.
Breck clenched his jaw. Kai was fucking with him yet again. Problem was, this time his antics were blatantly sexual—which not only made things awkward for Breck amidst his friends, but were also doing a really good job at giving him a boner. Blowjobs from Kai was the absolute last thing his drunk ass needed on the brain.
All attention turned back his way, four pairs of eyes studying his expression with bemused surprise.
He glowered and clutched his beer.
Ned and Jay exchanged glances, then—
Breck braced.
—exploded into laughter.
God fucking damn it.
He groaned. It was his birthday. He shouldn’t have to deal with this stupid shit.
“Yes!” Marcie cried out in glee. “I love blowjobs! Baileys and Kahlua, come to Mama.” She reached for hers. “Breck, you know how to drink these, right? You can’t use your hands. It’s like, against the laws of drinking or something.”
Oh, hell to the no.
He shook his head. “Nope. No way. Not drinking no damn blowjob. Especially one that came from that ass.”
Jay glanced at Kai, then scowled at Breck in drunken disapproval. “Brah. Stop being such a homophobe and show some fucking gratitude. C’mon…” He smiled encouragingly at the rest of their gang. “We’ll all do blowjobs together.”
“Kinky.” Ned grinned.
Tad and Jay snagged their shooters.
Cursing, Breck grabbed his, too.
Whipped cream.
He frowned at the thing, then shot another glower in Kai’s direction. Before this night was through, he was going to wipe that irritatingly sexy grin off Kai’s—
“Say cheese, muthafucka.”
Breck turned to find Ned’s phone trained on his face.
Yeah, fuck that. There’d be no videoing this shit. What happened at their table stayed at their table. He lunged for Ned’s phone but missed by a mile. Stupid alcohol, all messing with his aim. Ned snickered but thankfully put the thing away.
“On the count of three!” Marcie beamed. “And remember, no using your hands!”
Tamping an oath, Breck dipped his head and sealed his lips around the glass. Whipped cream met his taste buds. Ugh, God. He still had tequila on his tongue. Not a good mix.
His stomach protested. He looked Kai’s way, eyes narrowed on the culprit wholly responsible for this shit.