Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
I shrug and take a sip to hide my hesitation. “Does my grandfather hate her grandfather? Yes, definitely, and her grandfather feels the same way. Do some of the other people in my family hate her family? Okay, yes, we’re in a feud and everyone takes it way too seriously, except it’s over some bullshit from generations ago and none of it matters anymore. It’s all an endless cycle of attacks and revenge and idiocy. Someone might as well stop it.”
“You think you’re going to break the cycle by fucking her is what you’re saying.”
I give him a look. “I will remind you that she’s looking for a husband. And yes, pretty much, I’m going to fuck her and end a war. That’s actually kind of noble, right?”
“Actually, her grandfather is looking for a husband for her,” he says and grins at me. “That’s a big difference. And no, Ford, there’s absolutely nothing noble in what you’re doing.”
“Doesn’t matter. Where you see problems, I see opportunity. Grandpop’s not going to be around forever and if I want to secure control of the family, I need a wife. Kat’s single, actively looking to get engaged quickly, and I find her attractive. We can help each other.”
“What else could you possibly need,” Carmine muses.
“We can’t all be as lucky as you and find a Brice back in college.”
“It took me a long time to recognize that I had something with Brice, so don’t think it was easy.”
I sigh miserably and finish my drink. “It still doesn’t matter. She didn’t call, and if she won’t call, I can forget about fucking her and building peace between our families.”
Carmine shrugs and lapses into silence. I order another drink, brooding and glaring at the bottles at the back of the bar like they’re my enemies and I plan on killing them all by pouring them down my throat.
Fucking Kat Stockton. I feel terrible about lying to Carmine about why I need her, but I have no other choice. I know he’d keep my secret and yet I can’t take a risk and fuck this up, not when so much is resting on it. And it’s not completely a lie… well—it’s a lie by omission anyway. It’s got to be her if I’m going to find out some dirt on her family and hurt them for this stupid goddamn feud that Grandpop’s obsessed with.
Fact is, if it weren’t for Grandpop, I wouldn’t care about Kat, not even a little bit, although I’ll admit that I’ve noticed her a few times over the years from a distance, always from a distance, because Kat Stockton is never, ever involved in the middle of things. She’s always on the edges, always watching like she’s afraid that people will notice her ,and I find that attractive. It’s such a change of pace from all the rich girls obsessing about being in the spotlight, building their Instagram followings, wearing the most recent fashions, looking cool and cultured and smart and whatever. Kat’s all of that stuff, only she doesn’t flaunt it.
But I’ve noticed. It’s the thick, auburn hair, slightly wavy and long, down to her shoulder blades, and her full, pink lips, and her curves, those delicious fucking curves. So many girls in our social world think being heroin-skinny with fake tits hammered on is somehow hot, but Kat’s the real thing. She looks like a goddamn goddess, and I love it more than I thought I would.
I don’t know what’s happening with me right now. I need that girl if Grandpop is going to name me his successor and I have to use her like a tool, but I’m having these other thoughts too. Like how good it felt to banter back and forth with her, matching wits with a woman worthy for once instead of just another milquetoast Barbie. Like how badly I wanted her to call me and how disappointed I feel that she hasn’t. Like how incredible it was to kiss her in the back of that cab even if it was the wrong move and scared her shitless.
She tasted like champagne and cherries. I wanted to bask in that kiss and would’ve stayed there making out with her for hours if she hadn’t pushed me away.
I keep thinking about that kiss. Obsessing, detailing, imagining what would’ve happened if she hadn’t stopped it.
Dirty things. Disgusting thing.
I would’ve paid that cabbie a small fortune if he’d let me fuck her in that back seat.
To feel the slow shiver of her spine as she sinks down on my cock and I fill her to the brim.
I would’ve done it too, and not for some game.
For my own desire.
What the hell is wrong with me?
This is a real problem.
I’m going to hurt her. I’m going to destroy her. I can’t think about fucking her, about pleasuring her, about enjoying her.