AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Sometimes I think that man needs to get laid or yank the giant stick out of his ass. Even in high school, I remember him being a colossal douche to everyone, and he still hasn’t changed. Girls used to chase him as a challenge, and he’d wave them off with a scowl, telling them to fuck off. Maybe Tessa and Sara can rock his world and ease the assholishness out of him, or perhaps he can eat eggs and fuck off. Because I’m not touching him with a twenty-foot pole unless he’s nicer. Like buying me lots of diamonds, nicer.
“Although, Ashton doesn’t sound too bad coming from your mouth. I can see how this relationship is going to go,” Rad rambles, disregarding Asher’s answer with a grin. Pulling out three twenties and depositing them into my free hand, he wiggles his brows.
“I’m Callum-Callum,” Callum says, brushing his blonde curly, shaggy locks from his gray eyes.
A deep blush rises on his cheeks, and he quickly looks away with a bashful smile and moves into the room, wringing his hands together. Looking back, he smiles again, and his blush deepens further. Only this time, he looks me in the eye and gives me a shaky wave, like it took everything inside him to make that connection. With a wink and a wave, I successfully make him blush so hard he resembles a tomato.
“This is so fucking unnecessary,” Asher grumbles, running a hand down his twisted face. But again, no one pays attention to him. They simply smile at me with goo-goo eyes and continue their weird introductions.
“That’s great,” I say with sarcasm, looking behind them.
I wave a hand, motioning the other two idiots forward as Callum and Rad look off into the rowdy crowd. Rad, of course, grins at Callum, muttering something into his ear and gesturing toward the sea of people.
Kieran steps forward with his face tipped down and his mismatched eyes locked on me. His Adam’s apple bobs when he finally stops in front of my podium and pulls his hands from his pockets. When he finally lifts his chin, my heart stops at the desperation swimming in the depths of his mesmerizing eyes. They bore into me, and I feel him in my clenching core, begging me to finish what we had started earlier. But correctly this time, and balls deep.
Shit. I need therapy and dickaholics anonymous or something to keep me away from him. At this point, I don’t think I’ll be able to deny him any longer, and I’ll give into his every whim. Would that be so bad?
Heat spreads throughout my entire body, and I flush. Starting at the tip of my ears, working down my neck, and onto my chest. The idiot smirks, knowing precisely what’s going through my damn brain. The tips of his fingertips brush against my hand when I stamp it.
Ash growls with annoyance, pushing Kieran out of the way. He grabs the stamp from me, like the asshole he seems to be, and stamps his hand with greater force than necessary. He throws it back at me, tossing his arms in the air at Kieran, and takes off toward an empty booth by himself, pouting the entire way.
“What crawled up his ass?” I mutter, fiddling with the stamp to keep my hands busy.
Rad smirks, watching the entire exchange with his back turned toward the crowd. He saunters over, lazily looking around, and finally stops beside me.
“That’s Asher,” Rad says, getting into my bubble.
Again.
You’d think he didn’t witness his friend’s balls getting threatened several hours earlier. But yet, here we are again. Maybe he has issues with stepping into people’s bubbles? His breath passes across my neck, making me squirm in my seat when his fingers work up my sides, squeezing me. Surprisingly, his touch sends pleasant tingles all over my body.
I’m about to remind him what happens to men who can’t keep their fingers to themselves.
“Just Ash,” Asher barks out of nowhere, folding his arms across his chiseled chest. He snarls at each of them and finally settles his evil-looking eyes on me. I swear he’s possessed by a demon or something.
“The power of Christ compels you,” I murmur under my breath, flinging fake holy water in his direction.
“Did you just?” Rad murmurs through sputtering laughter, doubling over until he’s a wheezing mess and wiping tears from his eyes.
Asher cocks his head, etching a deep scowl on his face like it might permanently stay there. Shaking his head, he glares at Rad, who practically rolls on the floor, howling over the music. “We came for the band and the drinks,” he barks out, nodding his head toward the busy bar surrounded by people waiting for their drinks. “And to see you,” he grits out like it fucking hurts to say.
I crack a smile. “To see little old me?” I ask, cocking my head to the side playfully. He scoffs, flapping his arms around, and stomps off again.
“See you later, River,” Kieran mutters, a slight tilt lifting the edges of his lips like he knows something I don’t. “I’ll be kneeling for you,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss my cheek. “I’ll see you after your shift. Don’t be late.” And with that sentiment, he struts off without a backward glance.
I shiver at the thought, picturing him kneeling for me later. His words come back to me, replaying repeatedly. He’ll be waiting for me tonight, after my shift, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
And maybe I don’t want to.
Myeyesroamtheedges of the packed bar, finding the four boys I shouldn’t want anything to do with. They’ll screw me over, Van says. They’ll take, take, take, he says. But what the hell could they want from me? Certainly not my father or his connections. The only thing connecting my father and me is the blood running through my veins. According to Van, that’s what the boys want. They can’t be serious, right?
My father has been a ghost for nineteen years. Corbin West is a man I know nothing about and vaguely remember what he looks like. All I have is the tiny picture of him holding me as a baby, stashed away in my purse. When I feel like torturing myself, I stare at it, wondering what the hell I did to make him discard me like a piece of trash.
There’s no way I can give the boys the connections they’re desperate for. I tried for years to write to that waste of space, and he never answered. As a child, I didn’t understand what I was doing. All I knew is this man, Corbin West, helped give me life and then abandoned me, and I wanted answers. By the time I was thirteen, I had stopped writing to him, realizing he would never reciprocate my feelings. Every single letter I poured my heart into came back in the same envelope I had sealed. Unopened, with a simple phrase written across the top, return to sender. So, I gave up.
Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I blow out a breath. From across the room, a certain man’s fiery gaze eats me alive from the inside out, heating every inch of me. One look. One simple stare. That’s all it takes to lose my breath and beg for oxygen. Almost as if claws reach through my skin and tear up my insides into a convoluted mess of desire and heartache. The last time I trusted him with my heart, he took off with it down the road without a goodbye. Logically, he was so young; he had no choice, but a phone call or a visit would have let me down easier than just disappearing. Only to reappear years later without a recollection of who I was. I ache for him again, wanting to do all the bad things I shouldn’t. It’s like his fist grips my soul, entangling us together whether or not I want him to.
Searching the crowd, I instantly find those mismatched eyes checking me out like I’m the prey he’s about to pounce on. My damn heart skips a beat when he licks his lips in anticipation. A sultry smirk tugs at his lips, and he nods, saluting me with his beer bottle. Try as I might, I can’t force back the smile from my lips.
