Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 75783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Then again, I’m sure Dawson isn’t my mom’s biggest fan. She is, after all, an unabashed gold digger. The only reason she’s with Henry is for his money and anyone with eyes can see that. That’s why she’s been with every man she’s been with, including my biological father.
Dawson hates my mom just as much as I do, and the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Him offering me food has nothing to do with him actually caring about me; he just wants to piss off my mom.
Either way, I’m okay with that. I accept his offer and spoon a few vegetables off his plate and grab a slice of the New York strip. Mom watches me as I take a hearty bite, savoring the buttery soft tender meat with the chimichurri sauce on top.
Her eyes don’t leave me as I swallow, no doubt imagining that it’s going to immediately go to my hips and make me balloon up.
The four of us finish our dinner. My mom tries not to pay too much attention to me because of the frustration I’m sure she feels. Henry covers the bill, and Dawson and I go back to the pool to socialize for another hour.
When we are finally ready to go, I head to the changing rooms when Dawson stops me. “You can change at home.”
“I would rather–”
“We’re leaving,” he snaps and walks away from me.
Rolling my eyes when he is not looking, I follow him out to the limo, still thinking about the interaction with my mom. I almost want to share a sense of camaraderie after what happened. If he wants someone to rant to about my mother, I’m all ears because I would love that more than anything. Unfortunately, as soon as we get back in the limo, he’s just as cold to me as ever.
Disappointed, I wrap the caftan around me a little tighter, staring out the window as we drive. I’ve gone my whole life being a lone wolf, never having any friends to talk to and spend time with. But right now, I feel more alone than ever.
Twelve months. I have to put up with this for one measly year, then I’ll be on my own in art school, making myself the life I want. This year just can’t seem to end soon enough.
Chapter 7
Dawson
As always, nightmares color my dreams, and the image of her in her last moments replays endlessly in my mind. With each different variation, I try to do something to save her before it’s too late. I tell myself there’s something I could have done.
I wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. My hands are shaking, and my mouth is dry. I run my fingers through my hair and take a few deep breaths to try to calm my rattled nerves.
It’s just a dream.
A dream that I have nearly every night that makes me relive the worst day of my entire life. I would give anything to just sleep through the night without the reminder.
I toss the sweat-stained covers aside and stretch before making my way to the kitchen for a glass of cold water. I grab a glass from the cabinet and pour myself some water from the pitcher in the fridge.
I’m just about to bring it to my lips and take the first refreshing sip when a strange sound catches my attention. I freeze and hone in on it, trying to figure out exactly what the noise is.
It doesn’t take me long to realize that it’s coming from Harper’s room.
I inch closer, tilting my head toward the door while I try to place the sound. It takes me a moment, but I realize it’s soft moaning.
I stand upright and move closer, pressing my ear directly against the wood. Harper is moaning.
This is new. Harper is an absolute smoke show. I’ve definitely thought about her in ways that some might consider untoward. Seeing her tonight in that bathing suit was pure torture.
Hearing the breathless moans only paints a picture in my mind. What is she doing in there? Is she playing with herself?
My cock stiffens in my briefs at the mere thought of it. I press my ear harder against the door, listening to the rapid, shaky pants while rubbing the growing bulge in front of me.
I imagine her perfectly, clearly splayed out on the bed, her eyes closed and in absolute bliss, her mouth hanging open as she lets the pleasure take control.
What kind of girl is Harper? Would she just use her fingers, or does she have some kind of toy? I have half a mind to crack open the door and find out for myself.
My cock throbs, and it takes everything in me not to whip it out and start massaging it right here and now. The only thing really holding me back is the fact that Maggie lives in the penthouse too, and she’s always had the need for a midnight snack.