Apex Predator (The Game #11) Read Online Cara Dee

Categories Genre: Angst, BDSM, Erotic, M-M Romance, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Game Series by Cara Dee
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Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
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Kill me.

The jealousy that reared its ugly head made me feel like crap.

Feeling like I was about to suffocate, I loosened my tie and undid the first couple of buttons on my shirt, and then Walker was rushing over to me.

“Is someone spinnin’ out of control?” Why was he looking amused? He gripped my arms, only to slide his hands up to cup my face. “You started thinkin’ about me with others, didn’t you?”

I scowled up at him. “You’re mine. Don’t get any fucking ideas—”

“Easy, pet.” His low warning came with a sharp nip to my jaw, and then his dumb smirk was back. “You’re mine too, Macklin. The rest, we’ll figure out together. We will push those limits we’re comfortable pushing—and protect what needs to be protected.”

Deep breaths.

I inhaled through my nose and closed my eyes.

“We’ll make all those decisions together, too?” I asked to make sure.

“After exhausting the discussions,” he promised. “As for Lane—Macklin, I think he’s precious. I am positive we will work somethin’ out that makes us all happy.” He paused and shifted a little where he stood. “I was going to save this for later, but I might as well say it now.”

I opened my eyes again.

“You were indescribably sexy today when you topped Shay to be a good boy for me,” he said. “I want to see more of that. Much more.” He dipped down and kissed my nose. “Of course, Lane comes to mind.”

Oh damn, that was too easy to picture.

Lane would definitely be down.

“We’ll find our way,” Walker repeated, and I could only nod.

He made me believe.

I watched him in silence as he buttoned up my shirt again and adjusted my tie.

Master was right. We’d find our way. We’d create it.

“Who has the champagne?” I called.

“It’s on the boat!” Lane hollered back.

Phew. That was the most important part.

We made a run for it, down the marina, because of course we were late. But dinner had been fucking amazing, both the food and the company.

I could admit I hadn’t expected to find first-class dining on Ty’s little island, and in retrospect, I should have. Florida knew their seafood, and we’d spent the past two hours having a blast in one of the three restaurants on the island. Everyone was dressed to the nines, everyone was lit, and everyone was full from the best seafood I’d had in ages.

Lane was probably high too—and not on weed. He’d been taken aback when he and Ty had been met with applause upon entering the restaurant. Word got around, and all the senior citizens had been happy to see Ty and “his sidekick” after a few days of catching pythons and whatnot.

Lane’s stupid grin was like aloe on a burn.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” Ty was first to board his boat in the town’s main marina.

I hadn’t understood why we were taking the boat at first—until Ty had told me we’d catch the fireworks they arranged on Marco Island every year.

If we made it in time.

Walker reached the boat right before me, and he tipped his imaginary hat and helped me on board with a charming smile, ever the gentleman.

“Thank you, kind Sir.” I was in a flirty mood.

The Tenley triad boarded shortly after, and then Ty started the engine and took us out of the marina.

“I’ll get the glasses!” Lane ducked below deck.

“I’ll put on some music,” Reese said.

“Oh, lemme fight you on that, Sir,” I said and ran after him. I loved Reese, but he—and most of our Tops—wouldn’t know a good party song if it smacked them upside the head.

“And you think you’ll win?” Reese laughed. “You have two options. Country or AC/DC.”

How about no?

“It’s New Year’s Eve,” I grated out. I followed him down the narrow steps, and he ducked his head to enter the cabin. “At least give us something they might play in a club on a slow night.”

We came to a stop when we found Lane fiddling with the stereo next to the little kitchen.

“I’m saving us from your bitching,” he informed us. “There. A whole playlist of country music club remixes. No—step back, Sir.” He gave Reese a look of warning. “Don’t come any closer. I’ll push play when the snacks are upstairs. Shoo.”

Reese and I glanced at each other.

Compromise?

“Fine,” he said. Next, he eyed Lane. “Don’t get used to winning.”

Lane beamed in triumph. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Sir.”

I chuckled.

Reese nodded, satisfied, and returned upstairs. In the meantime, I helped Lane gather enough champagne glasses for us. Plus snacks. Damn, Lane had been busy earlier. How had I missed this? He’d prepared a bunch before dinner. Plastic bowls for chips, a Saran-wrapped tray filled with charcuterie and olives and stuff, and one container with drink condiments. Lemon wedges, strawberries, limes, cherries…

“When did you get all this?” I had to ask. We’d been together all day, essentially.


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