Total pages in book: 14
Estimated words: 12074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 60(@200wpm)___ 48(@250wpm)___ 40(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 12074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 60(@200wpm)___ 48(@250wpm)___ 40(@300wpm)
As I walk up the steps to London’s apartment, I juggle a cardboard box in one hand and a plastic bag in my other hand. I groan loudly when my purse slips off my shoulder and causes my arm to jerk. I barely maintain my precarious hold on our dinner. Thankfully, I wore my lucky high-heeled boots today, and I use one to kick the door.
Emery pulls the door open and rolls her eyes as she reaches for the plastic bag. “Why didn’t you text and ask for help?”
“It wasn’t a problem until my purse slid off my shoulder.” I shrug as I follow her into London’s brightly decorated kitchen.
After we drop the bags on the breakfast bar, Maddie starts pulling the to-go boxes out while Emery grabs drinks. “Goodness, you think you got enough?” Maddie smirks as she holds up a box.
“Tino must’ve thrown in a little extra.” I shrug. “I only ordered one taco-burrito snack pack.”
Maddie sets a container of burritos and tacos on the counter before pulling out two more containers. She opens one and frowns before holding up a tiny little red pepper. “I wonder what this is?” she asks.
Piper walks into the kitchen and sees the innocuous-looking pepper in her hand. “Oh my God, drop it. Do not eat that,” she screeches as Maddie pops the pepper into her mouth.
The three of us watch horror as she swallows it. After a few seconds, tears pour out of Maddie’s eyes, and she coughs and chokes. “It’s horrible. Make it stop.”
Emery rushes for the refrigerator and grabs a pint of ice cream. Then she pulls a spoon out of the decorative holder on the counter and scoops a huge glob of the green frozen concoction and jams it into Maddie’s gasping mouth.
“This should cool you down.” As Maddie continues to sputter, Emery pats her on the back.
Piper looks at me and shakes her head. “That’s a Carolina reaper pepper.”
What? I think to myself. I never order spicy take-out. “I didn’t order any hot peppers.” I look at my four friends. “You guys know I don’t like super spicy stuff,” I rush to argue.
Emery holds up her hand. “Wait.” She sighs. “The last time I picked up the take-out, Tino and I discussed home gardening, and he told me he grew them.” She looks at Maddie. “He promised to bring me some to put in my salsa.” Emery turns to raise an eyebrow at Maddie. “He didn't realize my numb nut friend would eat it without first making sure it isn’t something dangerous.”
“Oops,” Maddie mumbles around the spoon as she continues shoveling the mint chocolate chip ice cream into her mouth until the small container is empty. She stumbles over and sits on one of the barstools. Shaking her head, she looks at me and sighs. “It’s going to be a long night. You remember I’m lactose intolerant, right?” I look up at the ceiling and groan. Fudge. “The last time I ate dairy, we all suffered.”
I feel guilty for this and end up running out to buy a new heating pad for my friend’s belly. We ignore her rumbling tummy and excessive gas while watching the new romantic comedy, hoping it helps take her mind off the pain. Luckily, she falls asleep on the sofa and sleeps through the worst of it.
WILD
It’s been a long damn week. When I think I've finally got Jenna off my mind, there’s something that reminds me of the gorgeous blonde, and I’m back to obsessing over her. I can’t watch fucking sports on television. Even the commercials remind me of her. I see an advertisement for shampoo, of all things, and the model on the screen flips her hair to the side, exposing her neck, and BAM! My cock turns to stone in my pants because she looks like Jenna.
Each night, I lie in my king-sized bed and stare at the ceiling before falling asleep. I promise myself I’ll finally have a complete night of sleep without dreaming about her, but so far, I wake up every morning covered in sweat from spending hours pounding her tight pussy while in la-la land. Stick a fucking fork in me. I’m done.
My life is officially a soap opera, and if I don’t make a move soon, I’ll be ready for the nuthouse. My cock is jealous of my sub-conscious mind since it’s getting all the fucking action. The hand jobs I give my dick in the shower don’t make up for the real thing, and I’m quickly turning into one surly asshole.
My personal assistant blew up and told me I either need to figure my shit out or she’s taking a long vacation. Lynette is tired of dealing with my crabby ass. I heard one of the interns saying they’re taking donations to buy me a hooker, hoping that getting me laid might improve my disposition. If that fails, he’s quitting because he’s had enough of me. Well, stand in line, dickhead.