Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
My mouth snapped shut, my teeth clacking together with the force. Swallowing thickly, my skin prickled. I was cornered, and I didn’t fucking like it.
“Jax,” Arlo said, his tone softening, “if it’s a woman, it’s okay. Just breathe, yeah? Tell me what’s going on.”
“Don’t pull that sweet Daddy shit on me,” I rasped. Arlo had a Daddy kink, and he loved to go all Daddy on us when we were being stubborn or lashing out.
Arlo’s lips quirked at the corners, amusement shining in his eyes. “You can talk to me, Jax.”
I scrubbed my hands down my face before tugging roughly at my beard. The pain settled me, and my heart rate slowed a little. “It’s a woman,” I finally told him. “An escort.”
“You did a repeat with her?” Arlo asked.
I nodded. “Yeah, uh… three times.”
“Fuck, brother.” He shook his head. “She’s under your skin, ain’t she?”
I dropped into my desk chair with a heavy sigh. “She’s flowing through my goddamn veins at this point,” I told him honestly. “I don’t know what the fuck to do. She’s into the same shit I am, Arlo.” Arlo was well aware of my darker tastes. Hell, he was the one who got me Evangeline’s contact info and put me in with Hooked. “When she’s with me, everything feels right. And without her… I feel lost.”
“So actively pursue her,” he said in a duh tone as if anything in my life ever seemed that damn simple.
A scowl twisted my features. “And how the fuck do you propose I do that, jackass?” I retorted, my hackles rising. Arlo simply arched a brow at me. “I’m a fucking criminal—barely out of prison,” I reminded him. “And she’s a fucking hooker.”
Arlo shrugged. “Sounds like a match made in heaven to me.”
He ducked when I threw a pen at him. “Fuck you.”
He snorted. “Not my type, but thanks for the offer.” I laughed softly, some of my frustration dying away. Arlo leaned his hip against my desk and peered down at me, his bulky arms crossed over his chest. “Pick up that damn phone,” he nodded his head at my desk, “and ask her out. You don’t even have to call her if that’s too much. Just tell her you want a date with her, set up a day and time, and leave it at that.”
My Adam’s apple bobbed as I swallowed. I grabbed my phone off my desk and unlocked it before clicking on my text thread with her. If I didn’t do it now with Arlo standing over me, I would never have the balls to do it. Because asking her to come see me for a quick fuck was a lot easier than asking her to go out with me so we could get to know each other.
Jax: I want to go on a date with you.
Blakely: Well, hello to you, too, sunshine. I’d love to go on a date with you.
My lips tilted up, and my muscles relaxed. Sunshine. Fuck, I hoped that stuck because oddly, I liked it, even if she was being sarcastic as fuck.
Jax: Are you available Saturday night at seven?
Blakely: For you, I’ll always be available. What should I wear?
Jax: Whatever you want. I’m not good at this shit.
Blakely: I know you’re not, which makes this extra special. I’ll see you Saturday, sunshine.
I set my phone down and leaned back in my chair, staring up at the ceiling. “Well?” Arlo impatiently asked.
“Saturday at seven.” I looked at him. “Now where the fuck do I take her?”
Arlo chuckled and shook his head. “Your prison colors are showing,” he teased. I rolled my eyes at him. “Take her to dinner. Nothing fancy because you’ll just feel like you’re crawling out of your skin the entire time.” I snorted. Arlo knew me well. “You should be comfortable enough in Applebee’s. Just take her there.”
He turned and headed for the door. “Arlo?” I called. He looked over his shoulder at me, his hand on the door handle.
“Yeah?”
I licked my dry lips. “Uhm, thanks.”
He nodded once. “This is what family is for, brother.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jax
“You cannot go out wearing that,” Ace said as I stepped off the last stair. I tilted my head back, glaring at the ceiling. “Do you not own a pair of jeans without grease stains?” He walked over and plucked at my old t-shirt. “Or a shirt that’s not faded?”
I sighed, staring down at him. “Ace, you’re wearing on my nerves.”
He gripped my shoulders with surprising strength for his small body and pushed me back toward the stairs. “Back to your room. There’s got to be something in your wardrobe.”
“I don’t have time for this,” I growled as Ace pushed against my back. I grunted and walked back upstairs so he’d stop shoving against me. Fuck, the kid was persistent.
“You’re going to find time,” Ace retorted as we walked into my room. I sat on the edge of my bed as he walked into my closet, muttering under his breath about my lack of decent clothing choices. In my defense, I was never out there to impress anyone. If I wasn’t here at the clubhouse, I was either in the garage or my cock was getting warmed in some escort’s body. Why would I need decent clothes for any of that?