Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 133034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
“Be my guest.” Josh grins. “Just give me your cock along with it this time.”
I love their banter, and the way their eyes lock with the warmth of humour. I adore the way their bodies speak as loudly as their voices, angled in tight as Heath unwraps the gift paper and pops the cork.
“Would you care for some, sweet curva?” he asks me, but I shake my head.
“No, thanks. I’d rather share some of it when you piss it out later. You can spray some in my direction when Josh is struggling to glug it down.”
“As if I’d ever be struggling to glug it down.” Josh rolls his eyes. “Honestly, Heath, our sweet curva has got some sassiness about her this evening. I think it has something to do with cargo ships.”
“Cargo ships? What the hell has it got to do with cargo ships?” Heath takes the first gulp of fizz from the bottle.
“The biggest cargo ships can hold up to twenty-four thousand containers on them,” I say. “Did you know that? Josh did. He told me. He came here with his parents and his gran.”
“Shame we can’t go to a quiz night together.” Heath laughs. “We’d be sure to be winners with that kind of general knowledge in our hands.”
And just like that, a pang of sadness thumps me hard in the guts.
Shame we can’t go on a quiz night together.
Can’t be seen together. Can’t be out together. Can’t be public together.
That’s what he means.
Fucking hell, my stomach ties itself in knots so tight it hurts.
I guess Heath isn’t on the same page of anti-normal that I am at all. I was raring to go, all set to oust ourselves into the public spotlight if need be, without giving two shits for the consequences. I’d have been roaring like a lion in the process like Vinnie Hampton. But no.
That one simple sentence says it all.
We can’t.
He can’t.
My sassiness dissipates into nothing like a puff of vampiric smoke. I struggle to keep a grip on my emotions as two pairs of gorgeous eyes fix on me.
Josh has laser vision. I see the rise of his eyebrow, trying to weigh me up.
“You alright, Ells?”
“Yeah, of course,” I say, trying to convince myself I am alright, because I should be alright. Even seeing Heath at all is amazing. AMAZING. I give them both a beaming smile.
“Hmm. Maybe I will take a swig of that De Chante actually.” I laugh a little too loud, and Heath’s brows are pitted when he hands it over.
I walk over to the windows of the suite, pretending to check out the ships as I neck some of the top-notch champagne, hating the way my insides are hurting.
Goodbye crazy, hello normal.
I feel like such a fucking idiot for even thinking it could be anything else.
“Seriously, you alright, Ells?” Josh asks, and I nod, pulling myself together enough to spin back to them.
“Twenty-four thousand containers,” I say. “That’s insane, right? I can’t even picture twenty-four. They are huge. Massive. So much stuff in them piled up high.”
“It would be quite a mountain,” Heath says. “I wouldn’t envy anyone trying to stack them in any kind of order.”
“No. It would be crazy precarious,” I laugh. “Crazy.”
“Yeah,” Josh says. “Crazy.”
His eyes speak volumes, but I don’t want to hear the unspoken. I don’t want to feel the hope, sliding down the drain.
Fuck Ella for tonight. Being Ella is too damn gut punching.
At least I have a solution for it.
I turn Holly the whore up to full volume and rejig my energy for the room. I glug down some champagne, eyeing up the two men who drive me crazy in body as well as soul.
Body is what counts right now. Soul can wait for another day.
“I’ve been dying of a thirst far worse than a bottle of De Chante can fix,” I say to Heath. Our client. User 1543. “So, tell me, Heathy baby. Are you ready to give your curvas a damn good time?” I pace closer. I bite my scarlet lip as I approach the star who drives me wild. “I really hope so, because this little curva right here is desperate for you. I’ll be the sweetest little curva there can be, I swear it. Cross my heart and hope to die, from a Count bite, preferably, right on my tender cunt.”
His breath hitches, just a touch. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he stares at me.
Yeah. I got this.
Holly’s got this.
My hardcorer charm works its magic on Josh as well as Heath, both of them transfixed as I glug back more De Chante and kick off my stilettos.
“Get set to get dirty, guys,” I tell my pair of lovers. “Because a week has been a damn long time.”
“Yes, it has,” Heath says, and takes me by the hair once I reach him.