Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
CHARLIE:
And what’s B doing while you’re enjoying my mouth?
ME:
Well…obviously…he’s enjoying your pussy.
Three dots pop up to indicate she’s typing. I absently reach down and rub my erection over my sweats.
CHARLIE:
I’m so turned on right now.
ME:
Yeah? Did that make you wet?
CHARLIE:
Soaked.
I’m suddenly very grateful that I decided to stay home tonight.
CHAPTER NINE
BECKETT
Leave my Little alone
“I MEAN, IF COACH SAYS IT’S ALL RIGHT, THEN TAKE HIM AT HIS WORD for it.”
“We both know he has no choice.” There’s a loud clatter from the kitchen.
Will is pissed. I don’t blame him. His dad’s TV crew showed up at our opponent’s rink tonight to interview Coach Jensen before our away game, which obviously guaranteed Jensen would be in a foul mood before the first puck even dropped. Then they shot B-roll footage of our warm-up, enraging the Boston College coach, because it turned out they never asked anyone at BC if it was all right to film them.
Oh, and then we lost the game. So Will is doubly pissed.
If my parents were constantly sticking their noses in my life, I wouldn’t be thrilled either. Luckily, my mum and dad are terrific people who are very good at minding their business. Will’s dad, not so much.
I still haven’t even met the guy, and Will has been living with me since the summer. It’s late fall now. Not a single appearance from Mr. Congressman, though we did receive a gift basket as a housewarming gift. It was full of local jams and artisan breads, along with a typed message that some aide probably recited to the order taker at the jam shop.
Will’s dad sounds like a total dickhead.
Meanwhile, Will’s still clanging around in the kitchen like a toddler who just discovered pots and pans.
“Mate, what are you doing in there?” I call. “I thought you were getting your phone.”
“I was. And then I saw the sink.”
“Yeah, my bad.” It was my turn to do the dishes. “But we can do it in the morning.”
“No way. I’m making breakfast tomorrow. I need a clean kitchen when I cook.”
“So we’ll clean it later tonight when we get home.”
“We’ll be too drunk for that.”
“You are such a diva.”
“Fuck off. I’ll be, like, three minutes.”
I grin to myself. Will was such a choirboy when I met him. Now he tells me to fuck off on a regular basis. It’s great.
I flop down on the couch and pass the time by checking my messages. There’s a text from a cute sophomore I met on campus a few days ago, but I’m more interested in my ongoing chat with Charlie. I open it to find that Will has finally gotten acquainted with our match.
Leaning back, I scroll through their chat thread, raising a brow when one message catches my eye.
If the three of us were hooking up and he grabbed my dick, I might not push his hand away.
Interesting. It never even occurred to me to grab Larsen’s dick. He’s straight as an arrow. So am I, for the most part. I’m just more open-minded than most, and nothing gets me hotter than heightening someone else’s arousal. So if it was something Charlie fantasized about, then who knows, I might not push his dick away.
I lick my lips and do a little rearranging below as their conversation becomes full-on X-rated. Speaking of fantasies. Look at that. Charlie has a car fantasy. Our kinky, sexy girl wants to get drilled on the hood of a sports car.
I’m sitting there with a semi when Will appears in the doorway.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asks, noting my pained expression.
I hold up my phone. “I see you’ve met Charlie.”
A sheepish grin touches his lips. “I like her.”
“Yeah, same.”
“Yet you haven’t asked to meet her in person,” he points out.
“Neither have you.”
Will shrugs. “She’s not ready for it.”
“Exactly.”
I swear we share a brain. I feel like we’re one person sometimes. Or maybe not one person so much as complementary persons. We’ve got a nice balance going on. He can be intense. I’m too laid-back. He likes to call the shots when we’ve got a girl in the bedroom. I’m perfectly cool following directions. “Eat her out, Beck.” “Fuck her from behind.” Don’t mind if I do.
I’m dying to meet Charlie. She’s funny. Cute as hell. I appreciate that she types in full sentences and uses punctuation. I’m not one of those “R u up? I’m so hot 4 u bb” sort of guys. In the age of autocorrect and voice-to-text, there’s really no reason to be typing in abbreviations.
“Car’s here,” Will says, checking his phone.
I haul myself off the couch and follow him to the front hall. It’s too windy to walk tonight, so we decided to play high rollers and order a car. Will can afford it. His dad’s credit card pays for everything. I was starting to feel like some broke-ass loser every time Will pulled out that card—he won’t let me pay for groceries, gas, all the streaming subscriptions—but I think Will enjoys sticking it to his father. I’m surprised the congressman hasn’t started paying my phone bill yet.