Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
“Good.” He closed his eyes, biting at his lip while he worked over himself, like he couldn't care less that I was right there. God, he was an asshole. I pitched up, tore off my bra, and straddled him.
“You about to dry hump my pillow like a twelve-year-old or what?” His brow lifted, his lips twitching like he was fighting a smirk.
“Fuck you.” I grabbed a condom and slapped his hand away, rolling it over him a little harder than necessary.
A guttural grunt bubbled from his throat when I slammed down on him. “So angry,” he said.
“I’m selling that car.”
“Yeah.” His fingers gripped my hips, guiding me over him. “I bet you are.”
I raked my nails over his chest, leaving behind angry red lines while he thrust up against me. “You don’t think I can?”
“Don’t know. After all, you are just a girl, Roe.”
My blood pressure spiked, and I wrapped my fingers around his throat. “I can do all kinds of things for a set of keys, baby.”
Too far. His jaw set, and in one swift move, he had me underneath him, pinned to the bed while he drove into me like an animal. “You’re not doing a damn thing for those keys.”
I should have stopped, but I liked it—craved it even. “You think?” The two words fell from my tongue like a match to a pool of gasoline.
He shoved my knees back by my head until my muscles burned. “It would be stupid of you to.” The headboard banged against the wall. It was raw and angry like he was halfway between wanting to kill me and fuck me. “You close?” he asked.
“God, yes.”
“You wanna come, Roe?”
I grabbed at his ass, attempting to hold him in place. “Don’t you dare.”
He flipped onto his back, then placed both hands behind his head. “Work for it,” he said.
I rolled over him, working him deeper. I could see the tight lines of restraint, the need to grab me and fuck me written all over his face.
Within seconds, warm heat flooded my skin. The rush of endorphins made my head light. I hadn’t even started to come down before Zepp’s hands clutched at my thighs, and he pushed up against me, a deep groan tearing from his throat.
We looked at each other for a moment before I climbed off him.
I was taking that damn car.
31
Zepp
The next afternoon, I sat on the couch playing Call of Duty with my brother.
I shot his avatar in the head. Blood splattered the screen before his player crumpled to the pixelated sand. “You suck at this.”
“Yeah. Well. You suck at life,” Hendrix shifted to the edge of the couch beside me, his focus on the screen. “So are you and Monroe into that BDSM shit now or something? Last night sounded ruff.”
I cut my eyes away from the TV. “Mind your own business, would you?”
“We’re brothers. You’re supposed to confide all your kinky shit to me.” He moved his character across the screen, ducking and weaving like a complete cracked-out feen.
Sometimes I worried my brother was a complete mental case and that it was my fault for whacking him in the head with a whiffle ball bat repeatedly when he was five. The rumble of an engine pulled into the drive, then around the back of the house. Hendrix sat up like a prairie dog at the sound, then chucked his controller down, and rushed to the back door. “Aw, hell no!” he grumbled before the screen banged shut.
I pushed off the couch and slipped outside, skirting around my seething brother. “I don’t like this.”
That damn Challenger sat parked in our backyard. Monroe in the driver’s seat, window down.
“She better not be stealing cars for us now,” Hendrix grumbled as I approached the idling car, taking note of the Star Wars sticker on the back bumper.
I stopped beside the car and folded my forearms over the sunbaked roof, looking down at Monroe. “If the guy hadn’t thought he was going to get his dick sucked by my girlfriend, I would almost feel bad for the fucker.”
“Why? He’s from Barrington.”
I stepped back when she opened the door and climbed out, pressing a kiss to my lips. “He has a Yoda bumper sticker on the back fender.” I thumbed behind me. “He’s not real Barrington.”
She frowned. “Now, I feel a bit bad.”
Hendrix stomped down the steps, a deep scowl on his face and his arms crossed. Like an angry toddler that had shit his pants. He pointed at the car. “Did she steal that?”
“Are you…” She looked at me, brows creased in disbelief. “Is he judging me?”
“I’m judging my pussy-whipped brother!” Hendrix stepped up to the passenger side of the car and kicked the wheel. “This is bullshit, man. Practically move her in. Fine! Fuck her in the kitchen where I have to eat my food. Great! Get your balls on my couch. Whatever.” He tossed his hands into the air, glancing from the car to her to me, then back. “But letting her steal cars. That’s over the line.”