Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
He looks flustered, like a duck out of water, and one of his friends raises an eyebrow, obviously wondering what the fuck is happening. The thumping bass is a blessing. It drowns out our conversation.
“You really want to leave? Now? For sex?”
“Sure do.” I run my hand down his posh shirted chest, and it feels weird knowing my boyfriend is watching from up above. “There is, um, one condition though.” I side eye the friend of his who raised an eyebrow. He’s hot. Tanned and dark haired. Confident. He reeks of swagger.
They’ll be a good pair. A good enough pair. “I want two at once.” I bite on my lip as I lean into my conquest. “Seriously, I’m such a horny bitch. I can’t get enough.” I put my hand to my mouth as though I’ve revealed the secret of a lifetime. “Sorry. Cocktails talking. Cocktails and the truth.”
Buff blond raises his eyebrows, and I worry I’ve pushed it too far.
“You want to fuck me and Marcus? Now?”
All or nothing…
“Shit,” I hold up my hands. “That sounds bad, doesn’t it? Sorry, I’m just a dirty bitch. Ignore me, I’ll move on.”
I make to step away, but he grabs me by the arm. Tightly.
Yes. I’ve got him.
“Hang on there. What’s your name?”
I almost say Holly. But no, that doesn’t feel right. “Lucy.”
“Lucy?”
“Yep. And I’m out to be a lucky Lucy tonight.”
“I, um…” Poor buff blond stutters as he tries to weigh up the situation. “Ok, I’ll ask him. Just wait right here.”
He gestures for Marcus to join him a few steps away, and I chance a glance up at the balcony. I feel so fucking vulnerable down here. Vulnerable at the prospect of failure more than anything, because if I have played it too fucking quick with Blond and Marcus, then I’ll look like such a tit in front of Heath and Josh.
I suck in some breaths, because if I do get the chance with Blond and Marcus, I’m going to get my act together and up my game. Earning five stars has been so easy this week that I’ve become comfortable. Too comfortable.
I’m an entertainer in this bar tonight, just like the entertainer I am back at home.
Thank the heavens that both Buff Blond and Marcus appear before me with dirty grins on their faces.
“Hey, Lucy,” Marcus says, another cockney.
I shoot him a drunk, flirty smile.
“Hi there, Marcus. You going to come with us? I’m sure you’ve been told what a horny cow I am. Sorry, this isn’t my general, uh, territory. I’m from the East End.”
“No problem with that,” he says. “We were looking for a companion tonight anyway. I’m happy to come along, if Ben is alright with sharing.”
Marcus and Ben.
“You’ve made my night,” I laugh. “Just a few things, though.”
I pull both guys closer to me, my heart thumping as I think of my onlookers upstairs.
“I like it dirty. Like real fucking dirty. I’m talking on the beach. I love getting fucked on the beach. I love cock down my throat. And I love it in my fucking ass as well. Think you can handle that?”
I flutter my lashes as I pull away, using my looks to my advantage as I hold my shoulders back – the huge rack of my cleavage on proud display.
Marcus swallows, and Ben runs his fingers through his blond hair, and I’m good enough at this game by now to know both of them have raging hard-ons.
Yeah, I’ve succeeded.
I will succeed.
“I’m sure we can handle that,” Ben says, and he wastes no fucking time getting on with it. Maybe he thinks I’m a fucking headcase, high or trashed on cocktails, and it’s clear he sure doesn’t want to miss the opportunity.
They push past their friends with slaps on the shoulders and me in tow. I wave goodbyes to the randoms around me, and strut along, following their lead.
As much as the balcony calls me, I don’t look up. I don’t dare. I don’t want to risk so much as a glance in Heath Mason’s direction now I’m a slut on duty.
The guys slow down when we’re around the back of the club and heading towards the beachfront. Ben lets go of my hand when he realises I’m not a bitch on a high who is going to make a run for it now we’re out the door.
“East End?” he asks, and I nod.
“Yeah, couldn’t believe it when I won the online raffle thing I entered. I only sent a text as a joke.”
“Ah. You entered one of those?”
I nod as though I’m proud. “Best thing I’ve ever done. Only did it because I was drunk.” I pause and give them a twirl. “Look at the outfit I got out of it, too.”
Both men laugh. Their suits are designer. They certainly didn’t win their trip to Cannes in a raffle.