Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
“Yo, Dad? That you?” Zeph’s voice booms from the kitchen. “Tilly’s here.”
I’m instantly on alert. Zeph has never felt the need to announce someone’s presence in our home before. He’s always fine with letting me walk into a room and be surprised, even if it means walking in to see him in the midst of fucking someone. So why is today any different?
Suspicion fills me, and I take a moment to look around. My home is in order. There are no clothes strewn from one end of the living room to the other, no crumpled cushions, or scattered dishes swept off the table in a desperate bid to fuck on it. There’s not even the familiar scent of sex lingering in the air. Which could only mean . . . fuck.
He knows.
When you do the kind of time that I did in prison, you learn to read people, and after you figure them out, it becomes as easy as reading words on a piece of paper. And Zeph, I don’t even need to see his face to get a read on him. His intentions have always spoken louder than any words ever could. He fucking knows, and now he wants me to know it.
Lifting my glass, I throw back what’s left before instantly refilling the glass and finally stepping out of my private bar and making my way toward the kitchen.
I see her immediately, her hair messy and her beautiful cheeks filled with color as though she just spent hours running a marathon. She’s wearing Zeph’s shirt, and the way her nipples seek attention through the fabric tells me she’s not wearing a bra. Hell, I could bet every last dollar I have that she’s got nothing but a black thong under that shirt.
As for Zephyr, he looks smug as fuck. He’s looking at me as though he’s about to tear me a new asshole, and honestly, he should, but that doesn’t mean he’s capable.
This right here is nothing but a performance. He’s trying to get under my skin. He’s shirtless with his jeans undone, clearly wanting me to think he’s just spent the day buried inside Tilly, but he won’t fool me. I bet he hasn’t even tasted her all week. Unlike me, who had those pretty thighs wrapped around my shoulders just last night.
Clearly, having walked right into the middle of a showdown, I don’t bother to speak, just simply keep my gaze locked on my son. After all, this is his show. What kind of father would I be if I didn’t allow him to put on a note-worthy performance?
Despite my stare being locked on Zeph, I feel Tilly bouncing around the room. She’s uncomfortable, and so she should be. Zeph and I aren’t exactly the discreet type. When we’re going head-to-head, it can get more than heated.
The silence grows heavy, neither of us willing to break as though there’s some unwritten rule that whoever can hold their composure the longest somehow gets the upper hand. Only Zeph has never been able to get the upper hand; he’s always the first to crumble.
The silent competition is rendered pointless the moment Tilly begins to squirm and awkwardly leaves the kitchen. “Yeah, I’m gonna leave you two to, ummm.”
She doesn’t even bother to finish her sentence as she walks away. Zeph’s stare breaks away from mine, flicking toward Tilly’s retreating back. “Don’t even think about it,” Zeph says, using a tone with her that makes me want to reach across the kitchen island and smack him. “If I have to be here, then so do you.”
Tilly sighs and turns around, awkwardly glancing between the two of us, and as I shift my stare to hers, I can’t help but notice there’s something off within her, and it has nothing to do with whatever Zeph is trying to do here.
“Damn it,” she mutters, walking that fine ass straight back into the kitchen and bracing her hands on the counter. She uses it to haul herself up, sliding her ass back onto the marble counter and making herself comfortable for what I can only assume is going to be a very eye-opening showdown for her.
Zeph adjusts himself, leaning against the counter directly opposite Tilly, crossing his ankle over the other before doing the same with his arms, trying to appear as though he’s in control, that this is his game, and I’m nothing but a spectator along for the ride.
“So,” he finally says, gazing at me as though this were any other conversation. “Just wondering if you’ve ever noticed the little way Tilly pants right before she comes?”
Well, shit. The gloves are off. But if it’s a game he wants, then it’s a game he’ll get.
Tilly gawks at Zeph, her eyes widening as though she can’t believe how the hell this is playing out, but I was almost expecting it.