AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Are you really taking love advice from a song that strippers dance to?”
“Shut up, I’m serious.” Love is a bomb, obliterating everything and everyone in its vicinity. I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. “My ex is with someone else now, you know. Only took him two weeks after we broke up. Then he showed up at my job and said he wants to get back together.”
“That’s why you quit.”
“I just got in my car, went home to get my suitcase, and drove here.”
“In the secretary outfit.”
“In the secretary outfit that got me laid.”
TJ throws his head back and laughs. “Touché.” He rolls out of bed and strides to the bedroom door. “I’m gonna grab us some more water.”
I prop myself up on my elbows and watch him leave, taking in every inch of his glorious body. His broad shoulders and lats lead down in a V, dipping in at the small of his back. One muscular ass cheek is tattooed while the other is smooth and bare. I contemplate which one’s my favorite.
Can’t believe I just had sex with that.
My fingers trace my swollen lips. It’s like I’ve been marked, every part of my body branded by TJ’s touch.
Yesterday, I never would’ve done something like this.
Everything’s different.
I feel different.
It began before I met TJ … but after tonight, I’m certain that nothing will ever be the same again.
Chapter Six
The Past
TJ
Cars line the street when I round the corner. The music gets louder as I get closer. The smell of weed gets stronger too. Another house party. So much for sleeping tonight.
My ninth foster home is my favorite. I use the term favorite loosely. It’s like playing a game of Would You Rather? when both choices make you sick and you’re stuck picking the lesser of two evils. I’m not getting hugs or home-cooked meals, but I’m not getting hit. And when you’re a reject foster kid, that’s saying something.
I opt for the back entrance. It allows me to come and go as I please. My bedroom is an unfinished basement that smells like a mixture of mold and bleach. It might be dingy, but I sleep on a futon. Again, it’s the little things.
I lock the door behind me. My body stills when I notice someone sitting on my futon. “Get out.”
“That’s no way to treat a guest.” The voice belongs to a female.
I flip on the lights. Damn. Long legs. Auburn hair. Creamy skin. Full, pushed-up tits. She’s definitely older than me, but by how much I can’t tell. Either way, she’s out of my league.
“Shouldn’t you be enjoying the party upstairs?” I shrug off my jacket and toss it onto the floor.
“I’m having my own party down here.” She gestures to the items spread out beside her: needle, elastic band, spoon, and lighter. “Want to join me?”
“What kind of party is this?” I’ve seen people smoke weed and snort cocaine, but I haven’t been exposed to this.
“This is unlike anything you’ll ever experience.”
“How old are you?”
“Hasn’t anyone ever taught you it’s rude to ask a woman her age?”
I shrug and take a seat on the edge of the futon. “No one’s taught me much of anything.”
