Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79499 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79499 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Fuck.
The things I could do to the nipple…I wouldn’t even need to touch her anywhere else, and she’d be arching off the bed, begging and pleading. My hand holding the pizza lowers in increments as she gets closer to the door, until she eventually disappears into the long hallway that takes her out of view.
A rush of breath leaves my lips, and River laughs in a shocked burst.
No one says anything for a few seconds. It’s like the sight of Cora Horton blew enough brain cells to render us all mute.
“Fuck,” Danny mutters, echoing my thoughts exactly.
“Did you see her tattoo?” Tobias whispers.
I had seen it. A hummingbird made bright by abstract slashes of color. It was so well done, and so beautiful I’d imagined it flying away from the warmth of her skin into the coolness of the night.
“What’s her deal?” River asks quietly with narrowed eyes.
Mark lets out a long, sharp exhale, his fingers curling like talons. “She’s mimicking Danny.”
“I come up with all the best ideas,” Danny chuckles, his clear blue eyes flashing with amusement and something that looks a whole lot like a challenge.
“She’s seriously on the offensive,” I say. “I mean, I can’t imagine she was that comfortable trying to pull off that stunt.” Beneath my palm, my beard is scratchy and dense.
“She looked perfectly comfortable to me,” River says. “She’s got the body of a cheerleader. They’re used to prancing around with their tits and ass out.”
“Not like that,” Tobias says with an awed shake of his head. “She’s fucking perfect.”
“She not perfect,” Danny scoffs, but there’s no bite to his words, and for a second, I catch a flicker of something in his expression that doesn’t match what he’s saying.
“She’s playing dirty,” I say, lifting the pizza back to my mouth and taking a bite. The cheese has congealed, but it still tastes better than anything I could rustle up myself. Cora’s sandwich looked good. I wish she’d made me one too.
“We can play dirtier,” River says with gleaming eyes. “A whole lot dirtier.”
“I have better things to do,” I say, standing and reaching out to grab another slice. “My exhibition is next weekend. I can’t be pissing around with shoes and rank milk. This isn’t a frat house, for fuck’s sake.”
“Then you leave it to us,” Danny says. “We’ll play the game. You can watch from the sidelines like the old man you are.”
Snorting, I take my bag of shoes from the counter and head the same way Cora disappeared.
This whole situation is a joke, but I have to admit, I’m kind of excited to find out what Cora will do next.
8
CORA
Maggie is right. The naked thing – or rather semi-naked in my case – is genius.
Before I walk into the kitchen, the Carltons are laughing raucously and talking in booming voices. As soon as I stroll in wearing my prettiest black lace underwear, they are rendered mute. Literally not a sound is uttered, and I ignore them whilst I make my sandwich.
Oh my God, the crazy rush of power I feel sends a surge of heat between my legs and straightens my spine.
Five men are brought to their proverbial knees by little old me.
It’s the first time I truly understand what it must be like to be Maggie. One woman is at the center of multiple worshipping men. It’s a drug that would be hard to give up.
Eating my sandwich, I glance at the grocery bags resting in the corner of my room. It’s not ideal to store fish outside of the refrigerator, but I don’t want to risk the men downstairs realizing what I’m up to, or worse, using my ammunition against me.
And it’s only one night. Tomorrow, when they’ve all left for work and college, I’ll be able to put the next stage of my retaliation plan into effect. They might have enjoyed the lace underwear and curves, but they’ll be less happy with the smelly fish in their closets. I can’t wait to see their stupid, smug faces.
By ten o’clock in the morning, they’ve all left for their day, wearing the shoes I’d hidden the day before. I’m sniggering as I emerge from my room. I’m late for work, but as I’m my own boss, I have the option to put my revenge plans first.
As I look both ways, knowing full well that only Ross or Mrs. Henderson could catch me, I dash into the bedroom next to mine. It’s Mark’s room, and, as expected, it’s neat and tidy. He makes his bed before he leaves for work, and all his laundry is placed tidily into a hamper in the corner. Mark’s room has an adjoining shower room, a huge widescreen TV, and a neat wooden desk with a sleek black leather chair pressed underneath it. I scan for evidence of him, finding that I want to know what makes each of my enemies tick. I tell myself that this will help me find chinks in their armor. Of course, it has nothing to do with the fact that each of the Carlton brothers looks like a different Greek god.