It’s too much and I let out a high, keening cry as my body shudders and then explodes.

“FUCK!” I scream heartily, not caring who hears. I shatter on my fingertips and my pussy squeezes violently as I dream of Gray coming hard in my sweet passage. I pant, moan, and touch myself more, even as my body crests. I’m sweating now and ramped up higher, if that’s possible. But there’s no help for it. Gray’s not mine, and this is just a naughty fantasy, and nothing more.

To be continued …

My Dad’s Business Partner is now LIVE! Pick up your copy here.

Sneak Peek: The Frat Boys Next Door Sasha

Sasha’s had a crush on the frat boys next door for ages now, even when they keep her up all night.

It should be illegal for houses to be so close together that I can hear people having sex next door.

If only my scholarship to Remington College included room and board, then I wouldn’t have to live in this ramshackle, four-story building. My bedroom is in the attic, which is nice because I get plenty of privacy. However, the walls must not be insulated because whenever there’s a party at the frat house across the way, I feel like I’m practically there.

But right now, this drafty attic room is all I can afford. Even now, I have to work two jobs in order to make ends meet, and that’s on top of being a full-time student. It’s not easy, but I count my blessings. Things could be much worse. So what if I occasionally have to stop by Remington College’s food pantry? I’m not too proud to go hungry, and I’m grateful for what the donors provide.

But what makes life excruciatingly unbearable are the loud parties that happen pretty much every night at Delta Tau Tau. The heavy bass, random thumping noises, and of course, the moans and squeals that could drive a nun insane.

I should have known better than to accept a room next to a frat house. How anyone in my house gets their zzz’s is a mystery to me. Maybe I should invest in noise-cancelling headphones. But I’d be too afraid to use them because what if I slept right through my alarm? I’d lose my barista job, which requires me to be at Cafe La Heart by 5 a.m. each morning.

Speaking of which, there’s a thumping bass coming from next door which practically makes my floor vibrate. I sigh and check the time. It’s nearly eleven at night and it’s a Tuesday! Who the heck has parties this late on a weekday? Don’t guys in frats have class, just like everybody else? What about the people who attend these parties?

I peer out of my window. My vantage point gives me a good view of the offending house. There are people standing around in the yard next door with red cups in hand, and sure enough, the house is packed to the rafters with kids. People are talking, drinking, singing, and a few people are even dancing on the deck they have on the first floor. Apparently, weekdays mean nothing in college, but I didn’t get the memo. I’m fine with partying on weekends, but this is just sheer ridiculousness. I mean, hello. Some of us have jobs to go to in the morning, followed by a full day of classes.

I snap my curtain closed in frustration. A part of me wishes I was there, enjoying the party at Delta Tau Tau. At least if I were having fun, I wouldn’t be so mad about being kept up.

Okay, I’d probably still be kind of mad, because I have to get up super early no matter what. It’s part of the perils of having an actual job, but I bet the men next door wouldn’t know anything about that. They’re probably all here on their parents’ money and able to let it run through their fingers like water. I wish I could afford to pay for a school I barely attend. As it is, if I don’t do well in my classes, I’ll lose my scholarship, so I can’t afford to screw off like the rich kids next door.

It’s not that big of a deal though because I’m used to feeling like this. I’ve been poor my whole life. My parents gave me as much as they could for school, but they don’t have a ton of money themselves. Everything they make goes to bills, and even now, they sometimes struggle to make ends meet. I send home money whenever I can because it’s the least I can do. I may not have had much growing up, but I always had my parents’ love.

I grab my phone from the bedside table and check to make sure my alarm is set. I have to be at work by five, so I need to wake up by four-thirty at the latest. God, I am not getting enough sleep. I shoot daggers at the frat house through my curtains. They can’t see, but it makes me feel better at least.

Next door, a girl squeals with excitement. She just asked for a tour of the fraternity, and a man with a low voice is telling her that he’ll show her around. I’m guessing the only thing he’ll be showing her is the inside of his room, and how soft his mattress is.

There are also distinct grunts and groans coming from both the third and fourth stories of the house. This is why I haven’t been able to sleep. I think if it was just random conversations, I’d have no trouble, but listening to other people have sex can be a turn-on sometimes.

Then, another long, melodious moan fills the air. The girl’s gasp mixes with the cacophony of a headboard banging, and then a man’s murmur as he growls in his lover’s ear.

Добавить отзыв
ВСЕ ОТЗЫВЫ О КНИГЕ В ИЗБРАННОЕ

0

Вы можете отметить интересные вам фрагменты текста, которые будут доступны по уникальной ссылке в адресной строке браузера.

Отметить Добавить цитату