Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 62737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
“So, you’re saying there’s a chance.”
“You’re not making this any easier on me, and with that, I’m at home. Time to shower, you know, where I get naked and wet. Meet you online in twenty.” Ronnie doesn’t wait for me to respond. Instead, she hangs up on me, and I’m left staring at my phone while simultaneously thinking about what she just threw down. Fuck it. Two can play that game. I’ve got less than two weeks until the rock festival, and I’m going to do everything in my power to persuade her to stay with me.
But first, I’m taking a shower myself. I may have started this, but she sure as hell ended it. My cock is fucking aching. Too bad I couldn’t convince Ronnie to continue our conversation while both of us get wet, in one way or the other. My palm goes to my dick and presses down, and trust me when I say the relief I’ll get from my hand won’t be e-fucking-nough.
2
RONNIE
Iwalk out of my bedroom, freshly cleaned from working another shift at the bar. I’m exhausted from working seven days straight, but it’s worth it to have four days off for the rock festival coming up this week. One more day, and then I’m free. I can sleep in, relax a little bit before getting ready for a day of music.
And Jude.
My body tingles at the thought. The man is quite literally the hottest man walking planet Earth.
Jude: FaceTime?
Speak of the devil. I look down at my body. The pajamas I’m wearing barely cover all of my assets. Specifically my butt, one of the favorite features of my body. That doesn’t mean I like my hips or my legs, though. It’s the lesser of two evils, I suppose.
I’m more than ready to unwind, playing a game or two with Jude before the tiredness takes over and I crawl into bed. I’ve learned to put pajamas on after my shower no matter what time of the day it is. As a bartender, my hours are never the same. Some days, I work when the sun is up, and a lot of days, I work until the moon is high in the sky.
Me: Are you spying on me? How did you know I just got out of the shower?
I guess he’ll have to take me as I am, makeup free, hair wrapped in a towel around my head, and skin splotchy with redness from my hot-as-hell shower.
Jude: Foxy, you’re killing me here.
Jude: The last time you did this to me, all I could think about was you in there without me. Fuck. Change of subject, or I’ll need a shower of my own. Again.
Me: Is that why it took you so long to get online? Now I have something to think about next time.
Jude: Damn it.
He’s been pushing me outside of my bubble, in a good way. Which, I mean, I’m a bartender and have no problem pulling my weight at the tattoo and body piercing studio next door. I also deal with my fair share of flirting, from men and women alike. There’s a difference, though, in working to make sure customers’ egos are fed in a way that isn’t skeezy. It also helps with tips. It’s not like I’m in a gilded cage by any means. The crowd can get rowdy where alcohol is concerned, and then there are the people at the tattoo shop. They go through every range of emotion, whether it’s happy or sad and even worse, where I sometimes have to get a manager involved. Especially when I have to cut them off after drinking one too many.
The way Jude makes me feel when he’s flirting is night-and-day different. My eyes brighten, my smile is genuine, butterflies swirl around in my stomach, and then there’s a slew of other sensations, too. Namely my nipples that pebble, when my breasts wish they were in Jude’s hands instead of mine. My core has become a greedy, achy mess, begging for pleasure, annoying at that because my fingers and toys are no longer cutting it. And neither is the detachable shower head.
Jude: Did you crash on me?
I do the complete opposite of what he’ll expect from me. I slide my thumb away from the keyboard and hit the video button in the top right corner. It doesn’t take but five seconds before I’m greeted with Jude’s face.
“Foxy,” he says my nickname in a way that makes my knees go weak.
“Jude,” I reply with a smile. Meanwhile, this man is giving me his panty-dropping grin, and believe me, if he were here in the flesh, I’d probably lose not only my clothes but also my inhibitions.
“Long night at work?” Jude asks. I closed the bar down. My dad owns the bar, and my brother owns the tattoo shop. I’d thought about apprenticing as a tattoo artist, but it didn’t hold my interest. Then I thought well, maybe I’ll do piercing at Zane’s shop. My brother being a know-it-all told me the idea was dumb. Sadly, he was right. I sat in on one appointment.