Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
So, before he’d lost his brain to his cock, Tate had gotten the fuck out of there. Unfortunately, the last thing he’d seen before he’d turned tail and fled like a pussy was the disappointment and confusion on Liam’s gorgeous face. Those eyes were the color of warm honey. They’d haunted Tate’s dreams for the past few nights.
“Uh, we going, or you just gonna stare at the car?”
“We’re going. Unwad your fucking panties.” He unlocked the car and climbed into the driver’s seat, immediately rolling the window down. His car might be a heap of crap, but he’d die before letting Randy drive it. Not that he could drive it if he wanted to right now. He’d managed to get his license suspended after having five fender-benders in the past year. The man drove like a damn fool, yet somehow, he could drag race and win his lot fee in one night.
It didn’t make any sense. Then again, the shit Randy did rarely made sense.
Randy dropped into the passenger seat. He shifted Tate’s way and pulled a rumpled pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. Tate raised an eyebrow as his brother took one out, stuck it between his lips, and then depressed the car’s lighter.
Shaking his head, Tate ripped the cigarette from his brother’s mouth and tossed it out the window.
“What the fuck?” Randy socked his arm.
“You know I hate you smoking in my car.”
“You smoke, jackass.” Randy whined as Tate rubbed his arm where his brother whacked him. “Probably more than me.” He started to take another cigarette out, but Tate’s raised eyebrow had him shoving it back into the pack.
“First off, you know that shit’s not true. I smoke a fucking quarter of what you do. And two, I never smoke in my car.” He started the engine and pulled toward the park’s exit, honking at Letti as he passed her house. She waved from a lawn chair while drinking coffee straight out of the carafe and eating dry cereal from a box.
“Classy,” he shouted, earning a middle finger.
Randy chuckled and then fiddled with the radio. After he found his favorite rock station, he asked, “So, what’s up with you this morning? Shouldn’t you be all loose and relaxed from seeing your super-secret girlfriend this weekend?”
“The fuck are you talking about?” Tate navigated the car out of the trailer park and onto the highway.
“Please.” Randy rolled his eyes. “Like I don’t know. You think you’re so much smarter than the rest of us.”
Tate snorted. He took his eyes off the road to glare at his brother. “I am smarter than you. Way fucking smarter. Fat lotta good it does for me, though. Did you see where I woke up this morning? Alone in a double bed in our cracked Ma’s trailer I pay for because she can’t. I’m living the dream, brother.”
“Every couple of months, you head over to Tulsa to get you some city pussy. You hiding a rich bitch out there or something? I get being embarrassed by our shit and not wanting to bring her to the craphole we call home, but you don’t gotta be all sneaky about it.”
Heat prickled his skin. He laughed, but it sounded so fake that he couldn’t believe Randy didn’t question him. “Well, shit,” he said, clearing his throat. “Thought I had you fooled.” The lie soured in his mouth.
“She’s good, huh?” Randy asked, grinning like a loon. “Gotta be some prime pussy to drive your ass all the way to Tulsa.”
Tate’s stomach lurched. If Randy kept talking, he would vomit all over the steering wheel. “Yeah, real good pussy.”
“So, you like ‘em, classy, huh? And I guess your girl likes slummin’ it.” He elbowed Tate, chuckling.
Slumming it. Randy’s comment hit too close to home. Beyond his name and the fact that he sucked cock like a damn god, Tate knew squat about Liam. But his clothes had been nice, and he’d reeked of class, so the guy must have been slumming it last night.
For some reason, that twisted his insides to knots.
“Hey…” Randy elbowed him again. “Ain’t nothing to be embarrassed of. You like what you like. No need to hide it. You like classy pussy. You go and get you all the classy pussy you can handle.”
If he only knew.
“How’s Whit?” If this conversation dragged on any longer, he’d steer them into oncoming traffic.
Randy snorted. “Fuck if I know. Thought she was pissed at me, but you know what that crazy ass woman said yesterday?”
He took the bait. Thank God.
“What?” They passed the fairgrounds, and Tate shuddered. It was ten years since he witnessed a gay kid take a horrifying beating, and he still hadn’t been back. He begged off every year with some lame excuse Randy bought because he was too stupid to realize something was up.