I could do both without the pretty red-haired, blue-eyed stunner. But if I had her to think about all week, then it might just be bearable. “Come. I haven’t got a proper nickname for you yet. So I need some more time with you to work one out.”
“If I come, do I get final say in said nickname?”
“Oh, I plan on you coming, baby. Nickname or not.”
She frowned at me like she was a fucking schoolteacher and I was the misbehaving brat in the back row. “We both know what you’re insinuating, War.”
I laughed and held my hands up. “I meant nothing by it.” The laughter was almost painful in my chest after barely breathing for the last few days. Bliss was fucking fresh air and sunshine. I wanted to suck her in and hold her inside me so the warmth could melt the ice. “Just come. To the party.”
“Fine. I’ll catch a lift with Rebel.”
I sat back, suddenly feeling lighter than I had in days. It had been the same feeling I’d had when I’d seen her in the club.
It had been so long since I’d actually been interested in someone. Not just one of the club’s girls who satisfied my biological desires on a nightly basis. None of them interested me one iota, apart from as a warm slit to stick my dick into.
None of them had hair like fire. They were all stick thin, so skinny their collarbones jutted out. Bliss was the opposite of that. I wanted to grab her ass while she rode me. I wanted her full tits in my face when I came in her sweet cunt.
When she backed out of the room, her cheeks were pink again.
I was liked that look on her.
18
BLISS
I’d been planning to let myself mope on Tuesday. Too much had happened the day before, between the Vincent and Caleb showdown, an emergency trip to the hospital, losing my job, and then running into War. I needed a minute to process.
But at 8:00 a.m., the doors to my suite flew open and Nichelle strode in, peering at me beneath the pile of bedclothes. “You’re still in bed? You do know what time it is, don’t you?”
“I am, and I do.”
“You’re late for work.”
“I got fired.”
Nichelle’s pretty blue eyes went round. “You what? You can’t get fired!”
Despite the fact I was normally very patient with Nichelle, and even liked her most of the time, it was early, and she was screechy, and that plus an overall grumpy mood made me punchy. “I realize you’ve never been fired, since you’ve never worked a day in your life, but the general way it goes is the person getting fired doesn’t actually get a say in it. So yes, I can get fired.”
“David,” Nichelle yelled out into the hallway.
I stared at her. “What are you doing? Tattling on me? I’m twenty-five, Nichelle.”
She was only five years older. Not that she was acting like it.
I sighed. This was my fault for still living at home. But I hadn’t wanted to rock the boat. All young women in my social circles lived at home until they were married. It was very old-fashioned, and many acted as if they just really believed in the sweet tradition of it all.
The reality was, so many of the women in my circles, like Nichelle, had no ambition other than marrying a rich man who would keep them in the lifestyle their fathers had brought them up in. To move out of home, they’d need a job. A very well-paying one if they were to keep up with the rest of their friends.
It was why I still lived at home. Even working full-time, I couldn’t afford the lifestyle without the help of my father.
He arrived in the doorway, still dressed in his pajamas, his hair rumpled with sleep. He was slightly out of breath, like he’d actually run at the banshee-pitched shouting of his wife. “What is it?”
“Bethany-Melissa got fired from the daycare center.”
Dad’s grip on the door handle tightened. “Oh.”
Nichelle stared at him. “Oh? That’s all you’re going to say? David, I know she’s your little princess, but if you haven’t noticed, our bank accounts are dry. We don’t have the money to pay for her if she can’t pay for herself.”
Apparently, Nichelle was feeling punchy this morning too.
She spun back around to face me. “Don’t be thinking you’re just going to lie around here all day and sponge off us.”
“Nichelle,” my father warned. “Bethany-Melissa has never just laid around all day.”
“Unlike some other people in this house,” I murmured.
Nichelle shot me a dirty look. “I’m a stay-at-home parent. It’s a very busy job.”