Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“They’re not trashy. They’re actually very tame, thank you. If I want sex, I’ll go find it. I obvs don’t need it for that.”
“So what do you need it for then?”
“Ugh. You guys are the worst. Don’t even know why we’re friends.”
“I think you do,” Gary says with a knowing look. “Just be careful. Don’t forget your fall Caribbean cruise. Don’t know if you’ll be able to have the fuck-a-thon you’re preparing for if you get into a serious relationship.”
“No one else is getting into a serious relationship,” I insist. “You guys have cornered the market. And in a few months, I’ll be strung up in a sling on my big gay cruise and have a big sign-up sheet for tops posted outside my door, thank you very much.” I clink my shot glass to Hayden’s and then Gary’s. “To me having all the fun, and to Cody and Travis, who’ll be scraping your asses up off the floor as soon as they get here.”
They beam, looking so young and in love before downing their shots.
“Live like tonight is our last!” I exclaim before owning the dance floor again. Hayden and Gary join me. We get down and dirty until Travis and Cody arrive. They dance with their men while I work up some other guys who are as handsy as ever. I could grab any one of them, take them back to my place, and let them fuck away all the bullshit from today.
But one person keeps flashing through my thoughts and keeps me checking my phone to see if he’s off work yet.
I know he won’t want to get together tonight, but I want to see him again so badly.
God, what does that even fucking mean? Why do I want to see him like this? I don’t need some man. Never have. But I like him a lot. And it’s more than just as a lay, which freaks me out. I should avoid messaging him, but in a drunken moment of stupidity, I text him, Hey, Daddy, missing you on the dance floor.
11
Jackson
My bones feel like they weigh too much. Like I packed on fifty pounds of dead weight I’m so tired. I worked a double yesterday and then had a shift today too. I’ve also spent a day with Zane and another day with Mom this week. The first thing I did as soon as I got home tonight was jump in the shower. The second I step out, water dripping down the side of my head and eyes like sandpaper, all I can think about is falling onto my mattress and not climbing out for days.
I’m off tomorrow, and I plan to sleep all night tonight and most of the day.
Picking up my pants, I stick my hand into the pocket to pull out my phone. I didn’t check it earlier, and Derek typically texts in the evening.
It’s slightly ridiculous that I’m worried about missing a text from a guy I’ve only known a few weeks, but there’s something slightly addictive about him, minus the slightly part.
He’s a fascinating contradiction, sexy as hell, and he makes me laugh. Yes, he’s infuriating and hard to keep up with at times, but I enjoy laughing with him. I don’t remember a time when I laughed as much. Like I said before, he’s the only thing in my life that’s just for me and spending time with him makes me realize I need more of that.
My screen is black, and I realize my phone is off. As I climb into bed, I fire it up. As soon as it turns on, I see a text from Derek from about half an hour ago.
A smile tugs at my lips, which I immediately straighten out because he’s my friend and I sure as fuck don’t smile like this when Frankie messages me.
The second my eyes scan the text, my mouth hardens, and my molars grind together. Hey, Daddy, missing you on the dance floor.
Images of what Derek must look like dancing flash through my mind—his slender body, that tight little ass that’s so fucking hot, and he knows how to drive men wild with it.
And Jesus, I want to see it. Want my hands to slide down his body and experience Derek in all his glory. Even if I was going to fuck him, I’m not sure if I could make it out of my bed tonight though.
Sounds good, but Daddy is tired. Daddy worked all day.
I imagine his expression when he sees the message. The strange mixture of confidence and an unexpected bashfulness he gets when he flirts. I’m sure he doesn’t expect me to play along. I’m surprised myself, but he’s so goddamned addicting. There’s something about him I can’t shake.
Oh God, don’t say stuff like that to me unless you’re going to do something about it.