Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
“Fuck, that’s it.” Watching her gag as she tries to deep throat me. Fucking heaven.
“Greedy much.” One of the girls walks in. I’ve given up trying to remember names because who cares. She’s wet from the pool, still naked, and wants to play.
“Come here, sweetheart, and let’s see what good little whores you are,” I growl as she smirks before her tongue traces the side of my cock, then dips to suck on one of my balls.
“That’s it…” Rolling my head back, I close my eyes and just feel.
Sucking.
Gagging.
In and out they take turns on me, feeling myself grow thicker, and my stomach muscles tighten as I let go.
I don’t give any warning, just shoot my load over and over in whichever girl’s mouth is on me as the other licks and swallows my jizz that’s leaking out the side of her friend’s mouth.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” The voice barely registers in my brain. All I know is that someone is ruining my high because the vibe—and their voice—are anything but friendly.
“Oh my God, is that Courtney Falcon?” The wet, naked woman at my feet stands and points.
And I know I shouldn’t laugh.
None of this is funny.
But the death stare coming from this tiny creature standing in the middle of the room in all black makes me throw my head back and laugh.
“Come to join the party, darlin’?”
COURTNEY
Holy fuck.
“Come to join the party, darlin’?” His beautiful tan face breaks into a smile as he throws back his head to laugh.
Laughs.
I was already freaking out, knowing deep inside this was a bad idea. But Malcolm insisted. He assured me that Ammo was waiting for me. A musical genius, a professional, my ass.
Malcolm lied.
This is a trigger for me. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my pulse while assuring myself that I’m looking at a blond god, rather than the dark head of Johnny, and the blonde wiping off her fucked-up duck lips is not Roxy, just a groupie…
Thank God my black hoodie is already pulled over my head, covering most of my face, because my scowl would scream what in the ever-loving fuck is happening?
Why would he leave his gate and door open if he wasn’t expecting me? He told Malcolm for me to come over. I spent two hours finding the perfect clothes so I could give the right impression and now this… Are you kidding me?
Does he think I’m a whore? That, what? I just walked in to join his orgy? Doesn’t he know who I am? I’m as famous as he is, for fuck’s sake.
What an animal.
A disrespecting, disgusting pig.
I can’t work with him. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever despised anyone more. Standing with his stupid silver sweats around his ankles, laughing. I can’t see his penis because one of the skank’s head is blocking it, but I’m sure it’s small and hopefully deformed.
“I don’t know what you are thinking, but I’m not the one,” I announce as he stops laughing, his deep blue eyes narrow on me.
“The one?” He reaches down and pulls up his sweats. “Trust me, there’s only one thing I’m thinking, and that’s what the hell are you doing in my house?” he snorts, reaching for his drink, and my face instantly burns with humiliation.
Jesus, does he really not know who I am? And now I can’t remove the hood because my face is on fire, and I’m shaking I’m so angry. Also, I’d rather die than let him know he’s gotten to me.
Breathe, Court, just breathe.
“Ammo, that’s…oh my God, it is. It’s Courtney Falcon.” The one slut who has clothes on grabs Ammo’s arm.
He cocks his head as if his eyes are trying to see through my clothes, but I’m wearing black Spandex dance pants and a zipper hoodie. The only thing on me that screams wealth is my heeled combat boots, and maybe my jewelry.
“Who are you?” He takes a step toward me.
“Excuse me.” A man stands not fifteen feet away from me in a baseball cap, carrying numerous plastic bags.
“Um…delivery from Breakfast Republic…” He holds up the bags as his eyes widen on the wet, nude woman standing next to Ammo.
“Thanks, man.” His eyes are locked on mine, and for a second I have to fight myself to keep from throwing my bag at him. God, I really dislike this man. His full lips smirk, then break into a smile.
“Put it on the table outside and give yourself a hundred-dollar tip.” He shakes his head as he takes a deep swig of his drink.
“Cool.” The delivery guy walks around me, the skanks follow, giggling, and looking at me as they pass.
“So, you’re the clit girl?”
“What?” I snap, because is he deranged? I feel like I’m back on the sitcom waiting for the audience to laugh. This is such a bad idea, like what was Malcolm thinking?