Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 114211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
I just stand there after we’re done, my eyes on Anthony’s, him looking back up at me, as we catch our breath.
“That was so hot,” he whimpers.
“Yeah,” I agree, breathless. I nod down at him. “You okay?”
“More than okay. Perfect. Fuckin’ delirious.” After a moment, his smile drops. “Will you, uh … Will you stay with me? Tonight? Like … here with me? In this bed? Can you sleep with me?”
It’s not so much the question, but how he asks it. Vulnerable. Scared. As if I was planning to just leave now that we’ve finished.
Then another loud snapping noise rings out through the wall, followed by Pete’s unmistakable yelp—and another girlish giggle.
I lift my eyebrows, genuinely surprised, as I glance up at the wall. Anthony does the same, twisting his head around to get a quick look before turning back to me, questions in his eyes. Then he cracks a smile. I do too. Then Anthony bursts into laughter, and suddenly I do as well, unable to stop it, until the cackling pair of us drop onto the bed, side-by-side in hysterics.
I put a bill into the vending machine.
It spits it back out for the sixth time in a row.
From around the corner comes a comically disheveled Pete, his hair sticking up everywhere. There’s a mysterious mark on his arm. Three, actually. He’s walking funny. And his shirt is buttoned one off, looking askew.
He stops when he sees me. “Bridge,” he says, exhausted.
I smirk. “Was she worth it?”
He staggers up to me like a zombie, clings to me to keep on his feet, then groans: “She’s a fuckin’ maniac. A total f-fuckin’ …” His eyes change as his mouth gives way to a dreamy smile. “… sexy … beautiful maniac.”
“You’re something else,” I say through a chuckle, then push the dollar at the machine again. Rejected once more.
Pete grabs it out of my hand and starts flattening it out over his thigh, running it back and forth. “She’s something else. Unlike anyone I’ve ever met before. I’m kinda scared of her.”
“A little fear is healthy.”
He pops the smoothed bill into the vending machine. It works. Of course it does. “You catching feelings after all? Your problems all solved now? I said all you needed to do was bump his butt.”
“Pete, my guru.” I select the chips Anthony said he liked, then pull them out from the bottom when they drop. “Just let me know if I need to stop by a store and get some ass ointment for you tomorrow. That was your ass getting spanked for the past hour, right? Anthony and I were taking bets. Been enjoying it this whole time.” Pete’s silence draws my attention. His face is flushed. “You realize our rooms are next to each other, right? Adjoining in fact.”
“Of course I did,” he blurts at once.
Of course he didn’t.
I give Pete a pat on the back. “You always did say you liked a kinky gal. Now you’ve got one who’ll chew you up, spit you out, roast you, spank you silly, and do just about everything you’ve ever dreamed … and probably more than you wanted, too.”
Pete gives me a look. Then he smirks and offers his fist. “And you got yourself a guy who keeps you on your toes, and hopefully knocks you off of them now and then, too.”
I grin and bump his fist with my own, then hand him another bill to work his magic with. “Snacks are on me, bud.”
When I return, I find Anthony passed out on top of the sheets, still naked after his shower, apparently unable to wait up. He’s on his stomach, his cute butt showing. I toss the chips onto the table and join him on the bed. He moans as I slip my arms around him, mumbling something I don’t catch. I pull him against my body and hold him tightly, snuggled and warm. It’s just a few minutes later when I realize what he mumbled: “Thanks for staying.”
20
ANTHONY
I’ve had countless Saturday mornings in this motel. Routine’s always the same. Wake up with a headache. Recall barely half the night. Juni sometimes wakes up on the floor, always rolling out of bed somehow during the night. Then we stumble across the street half-dressed to the diner around noon to enjoy a cheap breakfast.
This isn’t like those Saturdays.
I wake up exhilaratingly refreshed. Birds practically sing in my ears as I yawn, stretch, and rise from the bed like a sultan. And standing at the counter is Bridger, already awake and dressed, trying to figure out the coffee machine. He turns when he hears me stir. “Can’t for the life of me get this stubborn thing to work.”
“Don’t bother,” I tell him, wiping my eyes with the back of my fists. “There’s a place across the street that’ll do it for you.”