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“I can’t hear you, Em.”
“Yes,” I say louder.
“I’ve been dreaming about this for a long time, Em.”
His fingers tease me open and I moan at the first contact of his tongue against my core.
I stab the“continue”button, but this is it.
Stay tuned for the next episode!
I stay hard.
Holy shit!
My mind is a mess, and I look around like I got caught reading this in public.
Does she actually want me to sneak in on her at night?
I read the latest comments.
“Give me some Sharki.”
“Love!”
“I need the next chapter. NOW!”
“I love how quiet and shy he is during the day and like a total alpha at night.”
Yeah, women love alphas.
“You can’t see someone’s eyes in the moonlight. This is 8th-grade writing.”
“Sharki is becoming my favorite book boyfriend!”
“What idiot would have a shark tattoo on his crotch…” “Ikr?”
“And then what? WHAT HAPPENS NEXT??? Next chapter OR ELSE…”
There are 1,431 comments and 15,000 reads in just several hours.
Is this for freaking real?
And I’m not talking about the highest reading score she’s had in the three years she’s been writing or the number of comments but the stark similarities between this Sharki and me. Down to every tattoo. Down to every piece of my clothes. What I do. How I talk. Unlike Konstantin inBeautiful Vice, John Temple feels real.
I go back to the previous chapter and see that my name was corrected to John.
Good.
But I still have the screenshot on my phone, and I double check it to make sure I didn’t dream it up.
I have cold sweat and hot sweat. I’m dizzy, yet my body is rigid.
One thing is certain—I have a boner the size of the Empire State Building and harder than a diamond.
So, I do the most obvious thing. I reread the chapter with my hand in my sweatpants, obsessively trying to get Lu out of my system. At least, this way.
And I have an agenda. When Lu is not home, I need to get into her room to check if what she writes about in her stories is true.
