Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 128356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
But he does love meddling, so I don’t know what the fuck he’s planning. I did tell him I’d mess with his plans within the Callahan company if he dares to put his nose where it doesn’t belong, though.
I don’t give a fuck who has a vendetta against Violet. I’m the only one who’ll slice her delicate neck open—but that doesn’t mean I won’t toy with her in the meantime.
Last night, she was in a daze after she came all over my mouth, messing up my lips with her sweet fucking taste that I couldn’t stop licking. Her cheeks were flushed the deepest shade of red, making the freckles stand out against her porcelain skin.
The ding of the oven was the only thing that snapped her out of her reverie, because she jumped from the counter, gathering the pieces of her shirt around her and grabbing another apron to hide her nakedness.
“Can you go?” There wasn’t her usual please in the question as she pulled a plate of lasagna from the oven. “Dahlia will be here any minute.”
I was in the mood to make her choke on my rock-hard cock that she was avoiding looking at—or maybe she was avoiding looking at me—but I got a text from Mario’s replacement, Larson, informing me that her sister was indeed approaching the apartment. Before I left, however, I made Violet give me a slice of lasagna in exchange for my leaving.
She looked at me as if I was weird, but she did give me a slice in a plastic container, then practically shoved me out of the apartment.
It was the best lasagna I’ve ever had.
Which is why I texted her a few hours later.
Me
You’re not a bad cook.
Violet
Who’s this?
Who else has the capacity to have your phone number?
Right. Thanks for the backhanded compliment. I guess.
It wasn’t backhanded. Your lasagna is the second-best thing I’ve ever tasted. The first is your cunt.
You’re honestly crazy.
Only just realizing that now? I thought the stalking and murder would’ve given me away.
Why are you texting me this late in the evening, Jude?
As per my first text, to compliment your cooking.
Is the compliment in the room with us?
What’s with these spurts of sarcasm? Or are you more daring when typing? Like those keyboard warriors?
I would just appreciate it if you leave me alone.
You should already know that won’t be happening. Especially now that I know the feel of your cunt. Mmm. Might jump through your window for another taste and have you wrap those lips around my cock this time.
Is this your new method of tormenting me?
Maybe.
You should go to sleep. It’s not good to stay up late.
My, is that concern?
Let’s call it that if it makes you leave me alone.
Careful, sweetheart. You’re piquing my interest.
Oh no. I thought it was already piqued, considering all the stalking, breaking and entering, and everything in between.
Hmm. You are more audacious in texts.
And you’re the same in every version. Oh, how is Mario, by the way?
Well.
Wow, okay. I guess he doesn’t matter to you either if his being shot warrants a one-word reply.
Or maybe you shouldn’t bring up another man when I’m talking to you. By the way, you should come watch me practice tomorrow.
Not sure if your stalking sessions have come up short, but I have no interest in hockey and even less so since I know you play it.
Why?
Because I kind of don’t like you and would rather stay away from anything related to you.
You seemed to like me just fine when you were riding my face earlier today, sweetheart.
I’m not sure if you heard, but there’s this thing called ‘sex has nothing to do with feelings.’ Or did you believe only men are capable of that?
Certainly not. But I’m also aware of your disappointing sex streak. Tell you what, sweetheart. I want you to watch the Vipers game replays from the previous seasons.
No, thank you.
I’m sorry if it seemed like you have a choice. If you don’t watch a replay every day and text me the highlights right after, I’ll slice Mario’s throat because he failed to do his job.
You’re a monster.
Your monster, sweetheart.
So that’s what I’m looking at right now, my lips twitching at the corner. A text from Violet that landed in my messages not too long ago.
Highlights: you won your opening game of the last season, and you hit more people than should be allowed. At least you were penalized for it, which made me feel better. Davenport is the only levelheaded player amongst you all, and I still dislike this game and you.
I narrow my eyes, rereading her words.
Davenport.
Fucking Kane?
People know I’m the most popular on the team, while Kane is just a stickler for techniques and rules. Never fights, never gets out of line, and could be labeled boring in hockey terms.
Anyone who knows hockey would pick me as the actual hockey god, not Kane.