Pretend I'm Yours (Pretend 1) - Page 10

But I don’t have any shoes on.

It’s cold.

It’s dark.

And I’m pissed and frustrated, when I should be satisfied and blissfully ignorant. I should be asleep upstairs in Sebastian’s bed.

Instead, I’m walking home in the dark. Fuck my life.

3

Kade

What the hell is wrong with me?

My dick is hard, and for once in my life, I didn’t take advantage of a woman I desperately wanted. Her eyes were a fierce shade of blue, the curl in her shoulder length blonde hair hung loose, and her body, damn. Her abs alone had me drooling and wanting to fuck her without thinking about the consequences. Her muscles rippled through her body. I’ve never seen a more toned body on a woman. And I can only imagine the positions I could put her in.

But she is too young and inexperienced for me. And I don’t do Sebastian’s sloppy seconds. I shouldn’t be hard.

But I am. Painstakingly hard. I’m cursing for wearing such tight pants. I consider taking them off and jacking off, before heading back down, but I don’t have time.

She kneed me in the balls, and yea, that hurt like hell, but it’s nothing compared to how my dick aches at not fucking her. Her body was screaming for me to fuck her. I should receive a medal for chivalry after this is all over. Sebastian would have fucked her and hurt her, I would have fucker her and demolished her.

I jog out of the room to chase after her but stop after only making it to the door. I bend over trying to deal with the agony. Twinging, throbbing pain that won’t subside until I spend my night with an ice pack on my balls or by fucking a woman in my bed. I prefer the latter. At least if I’m fucking, my dick will stop suffering.

Stop being a wuss.

I force myself to start running again, and I jog down the stairs ignoring the torment, biting my lip, so I don’t let out girlish screams bursting to be let out with every step I take. Damn, Larkyn.

The pounding in my head returns when I step foot back downstairs, the house full of beating music. I’m too old for this shit, I think. Most people are far too drunk at this point. Women are stripping, and I see more bras and exposed breasts than at a strip club. Men are taking advantage, pressing women up against walls, and trying to sneak them upstairs.

Ugh.

I like partying, but not like this. This is sloppy and gross. I much prefer to hang out in one of the bars I own. More control, and fewer teenagers.

I step over a mountain of broken glass. Sebastian should learn to serve these idiots with solo cups. Someone always cuts themselves on the broken glass inevitably covering the floor after a dozen people drop their glasses because they’re too drunk to hold a fucking drink.

Sebastian thinks because he comes from money all his parties need to be fancy. Why can’t he learn to have a college party without all the extravagance? It would suit these people better, no matter how they view themselves.

I search the main floor and peak out into the backyard, but I don’t find Larkyn. She left. Had a friend take her home or called an Uber. Either way, she’s no longer my problem. I need to forget about her.

I spot Sebastian out of the corner of my eye doing shots on Naomi’s stomach.

I rub the back of my neck as I stare at him. He?

??s never going to grow up. At least he is playing with a woman who understands what’s at stake. She’s on an even playing field with Sebastian. Unlike Larkyn, who was clueless about what she was getting herself into.

The TV is still hanging on the wall. Sebastian made it down in time to save his precious TV. And then, just as easily, forgot all about Larkyn. Idiot.

Smooth hands dance over my chest and wrap tightly around my neck as a boa constrictor wraps around its prey.

I pretend I can’t breathe, motioning with my hands to my neck that Harlow’s hands are too tight.

She laughs but doesn’t loosen her grip on my neck.

“You can’t resist me, so don’t pretend. I like playing this game we have going on between us, but don’t pretend we don’t both know how this is going to end. I’m going to be naked in your bed by the end of the night,” Harlow says.

I frown. No way in hell is that happening. I fucked her once, months ago. And I knew the second my dick touched her pussy it was a mistake. The sex was good, if not forgettable. Normally, it would have been fine. I wouldn’t regret having sex with a woman as hot as Harlow, but fucking Harlow broke my one rule. I don’t fuck women from Santa Barbara.

Tags: Ella Miles Pretend Romance
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