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)
Foxy: Maybe this will hold you over ;)
Me: Looking damn good, Foxy.
Foxy: Pony up, big guy. Tit for tat.
“Fuck yeah.” My shirt is already off after coming home from a tattoo session, which leaves me in a pair of army-style-colored camo shorts, sneakers, and nothing else. After I finished at the tattoo shop, stopped by Johnny’s, and then made it home, it was time to take the clear plastic wrap off. A shirt rubbing the skin where it’s freshly been inked is nothing but a pain in the ass.
I hold my phone up and snap a quick picture and send it. I’d do a hell of a lot more for her, minus a dick pick. Screen shots last forever, and even with my hacker skills, it can still be dicey. By now, she’s probably in her car and driving home. Now that I’ve heard from her, I’m a bit more settled down, enough so that I walk to the kitchen, toss my phone on the counter, and go for the fridge to grab a drink.
I’m halfway there when my phone starts dancing on the counter, the vibration hitting my ears before the ringing starts. I backtrack and look down at the display, figuring it’d be one of the guys. I talked to Johnny today about taking off for four days for my annual trip to a music festival that starts on a Wednesday and carries through until Sunday. I’ve been trying to talk Ronnie into going with me, even offered to cover her tickets, but she’s worried about taking time off work and missing out on the money she makes as a bartender.
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her I would cover it all—the tickets, her missing out on wages at work, and anything else—except I couldn’t. My group of friends comes with their wives, and if I’ve learned anything, it’s not to put your foot in your mouth by inserting financial help unless they ask for it.
“Hey, Foxy,” I answer the phone when I see her name and image I set to the profile, one I’ll be changing to the one she sent me today.
“Are you trying to make me wreck, big guy? Seriously, no shirt, a new tattoo, and the backwards hat. Jesus, Jude.” There she is, the one who lets her guard down, speaks her mind, and is becoming bolder every time we talk.
“The same could be said for you. Damn near had me ready to throw cold water on myself. Then you tossed in needing a shower. Can’t help but think about offering you a hand,” I lay it on thick, thicker than I usually would.
I’ve gotten bolder each day, pushing the envelope to see what Ronnie could handle. Should have known she’d meet me match for fucking match.
“Jude.” Her voice takes on a breathless quality.
“Fuck.” My hand tightens around the device. I’m almost at the end of my rope, ready to say the hell with it, hop in my Camaro, and drive at breakneck speeds to get to her. There’s only one thing holding me back: she’d ask questions, I’d have to answer them, then she’d probably kick me out and block me from her life. A day without Veronica Navarro is something I don’t want to experience. She has me tangled in her web, and the kicker is she isn’t even aware she’s spun it.
“Hmm,” Ronnie hums, and I know it’s up to me to change the topic, or I’ll take this a step farther. One where my hand is wrapped around my cock, her fingers are sinking inside herself, and I can hear moans of a different kind.
I clear my throat. I’ll save that for a shower later tonight. “You think any more about the concert?”
“Oh, the old change the subject concept, huh? I see what you’re doing here, Jude.” Her soft laugh echoes in my ears, hitting me so fucking deep, my cock goes rock fucking solid.
“You gonna answer the question, Foxy, or avoid it until the final hour? I’ve got plenty of room.” We’ve gone round and round with this. She’s hesitant, rightfully so. We’ve yet to meet in person or in real life, as my pseudo niece, Briar, tells me. Biologically, she’s Kennedy’s daughter, but Trent wasn’t having any of that, and the minute he could, he adopted Briar as soon as possible.
“I bought my tickets today, as a matter of fact, and have the time off work, too.” Thank fuck for small favors.
“Does that also mean you’re staying with me at the festival?” I press my luck once again.
“You wish.” No lie detected with her response. “I’m going to drive back and forth each day. It’s only thirty minutes from my apartment.” I grunt a response of my own, one that conveys I’m not overly impressed, but my hands are tied. “Jude, I’m not staying with you. Yet.” My hopes soar, thinking maybe I can convince her to at least stay one night. I’m a selfish fucker, I know. I want her near me and not driving on a highway, where getting to her in a timely manner will be near impossible, not unless I rent a car or grab a hired car. I guess that means I need to be prepared while also being glued to my phone, watching her travel the entire time until she’s locked inside her apartment.