Series: Lords of Rathe Series by Meagan Brandy
Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 98580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
That one, though. I’d bet he uses his dick like a weapon, serving up a raw, rugged ride. My favorite kind.
He rolls his bottom lip into his mouth quickly before his tongue slides over the base and I greedily wait for more.
“Good!” Justice hits my leg with his before shifting over his shoulder to see what I’m looking at. “Oh god, Lon. Look, I’ll fuck you, okay? You can stop being so desperate. Ick,” he jokes, flicking his fingers out at me.
“You’re such an idiot.” I shake my head as the waiter places our plates down on the table. They’re anything but ick. Clearly, Jus has his beer goggles on already. “So, this party…” I try to distract him. “Are you expecting hella people? And how do you actually propose you’re going to get away with this? Literally your whole street is friends with your moms.”
“I know.” He finishes squeezing ketchup onto his plate before sliding it over to me. “Which is why we’re not having it at my house. We’re having it somewhere else.”
I’ve known Justice for about a year now, but we didn’t actually hang out together until I started working at his parents’ shop—my short visits here last year were fully dedicated to spending time with Ben. Jus isn’t as close in our friend group, but I’m one hundred percent sure that’s because he doesn’t go to our school. His is across the bridge and on the other side of the city. Why he refuses to attend ours is simple. It’s the lesser school. Although… I’ve not seen much of this school myself, but I haven’t been here long, so that’s no surprise.
“Where?”
He shrugs off my question. “At a friend’s.” His phone starts ringing in his pocket, and he reaches inside, his face paling. “I’ve got to get this. Give me a second?”
I watch as he shuffles out of his seat and moves toward the other side of the diner. His back is turned to me so I can’t make out what he’s saying, which is annoying. I need the distraction. Anything to keep me from perving on the guys opposite us.
I slip out from the booth and make my way to the bathroom. There is no way my eyes won’t stray. It’s like my body is refusing to listen to my command to ignore the hot boys and it wants—no—needs to do the opposite. I swear my muscles strain as if I’m forcing them to move, just to keep my neck from turning and feet from carrying me in their direction.
I literally rolled so hard on Molly, I imagined one of them watching me while he got his dick, that I’m sure is divine, sucked in a floating fuckin’ house.
My hormones need to chill the fuck out.
The small hallway leading to the ladies’ room is empty when I reach it, the lighting too dim for a restaurant in my opinion. I’m about to press on the door to enter when an arm is on mine, turning me around and forcing me up against a wall.
“What the fuck!” I try to whack the hand away, but a palm is pressed tight over my mouth to shut me up and I’m staring into a pair of angry blue eyes. The intensity of them resembles more of a turquoise color than anything else, like the shade of swirling waves off the coast of a tropical island, dark and light at the same time. And right now, they’re a raging fucking tsunami and I’m the land it yearns to destroy.
He tilts his head to the side, his hand sliding down just enough to free my lips. This guy is pissing me off. Is he stalking me? “What’s your name?”
I shove him off me again, ignoring the way my heart thrashes around in my chest the second my fingers brush against the bare skin of his arms. “This how you ask every girl her name?”
My words are strong, but on the inside, I’m freaking the fuck out.
I’ve always wondered if I’d come across another Gifted during all my time here in the human world, but I could never say for sure. But this guy, these guys...
They are not human, I know it.
It’s in the way energy sparks from his skin pressed to mine. It’s not overwhelming, almost like he's holding himself back, but it’s there, like kindling at the first strike of a match.
I force the panic away, focusing instead on my anger at being played like a toy.
The corner of his mouth curves upward slightly as if my rage amuses him. “Not usually, no. Answer the question.”
“I’d rather not.”
He brings his hand back to the base of my throat, moving me gently up against the wall once more. I think I feel a slight tremble in his touch, but his tone makes me question my senses because it’s calm and controlled. “Huh. Funny how you didn’t play this hard to get with a tongue down your throat.”