Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Whose goddamn idea was this?
I catch site of Abby at the top of the platform for a ride called “Tornado Waters,” one arm wrapped around a big yellow inner tube. She’s laughing unabashedly at something the purple-haired chick, Jenna, is saying, the action making her boobs jiggle in the simple navy-blue bikini top she’s got on.
Boobs that I had a handful of this morning.
I run a hand down my face at the memory, and when I look up at her, she’s watching me from her spot in line and listening intently to whatever Jenna is saying in her ear, eyes wide. They exchange glances, Jenna throwing an irritated elbow to Abby’s ribs. I snarl and take a step forward protectively—because, Hey, get your damn hands off her, and before I realize what’s happening, Abby is curling her hand in a shy come hither wave.
I stare.
I blink.
I’m shoved from behind by a big yellow inner tube.
“Get your big dopey ass up there,” Weston says, rolling his eyes. “Does she need to send you an engraved invitation?”
“Oh,” I reply.
He bumps me once more with the tube. “Yeah, oh,” he mimics, rolling his eyes again. “Don’t be such an embarrassment to the team.”
The tube thumps me a third time in the back of the head, and it’s enough momentum that I stumble on the steps.
I swat him away, scowling. “Enough already. Knock that shit off, alright? I’m going.”
I don’t mean to sound so begrudged, because I do want to get to Abby, but Jesus, man, enough badgering me about it. When did my friends get to be such pains in my ass?
Weaving my way up the stairs doesn’t take me long—Abby is only about ten steps up—but navigating through the tubes was a pain in the ass, especially because my friends take douchebaggery to an epic level. Only a kid would find it fucking hilarious to pull someone’s swim trunks down in a crowded indoor waterpark full of little kids.
I shoulder past Miles and Stephan, who are keeled over laughing at the sight of Cubby struggling to pull his board shorts back up over his narrow hips.
“I thought maybe you’d want to share?” Abby says when I reach her, Jenna looking on with a satisfied glint in her eye. Even at a waterpark, the chick is dressed outlandishly in a bright Aztec-print bikini, large gold hoop earrings, and matching gold chain around her stomach—like she’s not afraid that shit’s going to get ripped off her body on one of the water rides.
Whatever. Not my problem.
Four people are ahead of us now.
“You kids go on ahead of me.” Jenna baulks when I join them. “I’ll wait for that big hunky gorilla, Cubby, since he’s flying solo too.” She wiggles her eyebrows at Abby, who shakes her head in objection.
“No to Cubby. Just… no.”
Jenna shrugs. “What do you expect me to do? Get myself off all weekend?” She laughs. “Oh, calm down, I’m kidding. Sort of? You should see the look on your face.”
“Put the lid back on your filter,” Abby says with a blush. “And no one wants to hear about you getting yourself, uh…” She darts a look at me.
Holy shit. Do girls actually sex talk to each other like this?
We move up another rung on the steps, and Jenna lets us pass, but not before swatting me on the ass. I scowl at Jenna as Abby hands the tube over to the waiting water park attendant, a lanky teenager with a crap ton of zits, who looks bored. As. Shit.
“Have fun sticking it through the tunnel, lover boy.” Her innuendo isn’t lost on me, and my mouth falls open. I mean, it’s one thing for a guy to say shit like that. But a chick? Jesus.
“You sit down first.” The attendant directs Abby and me, sizing me up before pointing down at the tube he’s placed at the entrance of the dark waterslide hole.
It’s a single tube for one rider.
“Don’t we need a double tube?” I ask the kid, confused and wanting to follow the rules.
He sighs like I’ve just inconvenienced him and puts his hands on his hips, clearly irritated. “I don’t know, bro. Do you want a double tube?”
Mother. Fucker.
I feel Abby staring me down, her face flushing from her chest up to her cheeks, willing me not to say anything to the little prick.
“Uh. No, I was just asking.” I actually pout.
“Then sit down,” the little shit-ass says sarcastically, and I want to punch him in his arrogant fucking face.
I sit down, straddling the tube, not having a chance to adjust the mesh inside my swim trunks so it’s not clinging to my junk, before the kid takes Abby’s hand and assists her onto the tube. Onto my lap.
Horrible idea.
This is worse than “accidentally” grinding into her from behind on the couch this morning, because now she’s sitting directly on top of me, her ass settling in right on top my cock.