Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27724 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27724 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
But yes, introductions need to be made, and the girls file into the living room, seating themselves on big, brown sofas scattered about. I see that the cabin’s spacious, but not overly so. It’s literally made of logs with a lot of huge, comfortable-looking furniture in the great room. There’s a full-size kitchen off to the left, as well as doors which likely lead to private bedrooms, and maybe some storage or a mud room. I’m not sure because I’ve never been one for the rustic life, and this is all new to me.
But this definitely isn’t the time for relaxing and making small talk because a thick musk of attraction is already permeating the air. The girls from Sweet Lies demurely cross their legs while throwing glossy tresses over their shoulders, but I can already see how hems are rising, showing off shapely thighs and tantalizing shadows. I see how nipples are poking at thin fabric as big busts rise and fall, and although the girls chatter, they’re already throwing appreciative glances at the handsome men, ready to get the party started.
The gorgeous guy who seared my curves with his blue gaze stands in front of a fireplace, looking like a Roman god as he begins to talk.
“Welcome to Sigma Epsilon Chi, ladies,” he drawls. “We’re delighted to be your hosts for the night. There aren’t many rules except to say except to have a good time, be safe, and enjoy yourselves. We’re here to enjoy nature, of course—”
“Of course,” a man to his left smirks, and that’s when my jaw falls open because he’s the first man’s identical twin. What the hell? There are two of them? And yet the two men are incredibly arresting with piercing blue eyes, dark hair, and the bodies of gladiators. Mmm, this could be fun, and a sizzle starts in my lower belly, even as my conscience begins to scold.
Stop, Cindy, it says. You’re here to fill in for Kiki and she said that this is strictly dancing. There’s no sex so get your mind out of the gutter!
Yet I know that the “no-sex” rule can’t be true because there’s simply too much lust wafting in the air. The men are handsome, virile, and very alpha. The women are lush and ready, with big tits and flirtatious giggles. This definitely isn’t going to be “just dancing” or “hostessing” or what any of the girls call it. I doubt there will be very much conversation, in fact, and my internal alarm bells go off.
You’re not a sex worker, the voice in my head rasps. You don’t have to do this. It’s not too late to call an Uber to get out of here.
Except that it is too late because there’s no signal on the mountain, so how am I supposed to call a car? I have to think. As the men continue to make introductions, I slip off into the kitchen, my heart racing. What should I do? Is there a landline that I can use, or a short-wave radio of some sort? Walkie-talkies? But how would I call an Uber with a walkie-talkie? Surely, there must be some way to reach emergency services, right?
Introductions have ended outside, and I hear the chatter of voices begin as people start to mix and mingle. Good. The more pre-occupied they are, the more time I have to make my escape. I slink across the kitchen to what I suspect is a closet, and open the door to be faced with racks of food stuffs. There are canned beans, rice, squash, cereal, and so many condiments that it’s fit to feed a Roman legion. Wow, the men must eat a lot, or maybe they plan to stay at the cabin for a long time. Nonetheless, it’s not my business, and I flick the storage room light on and begin to search for some means of communication.
Ah ha! Behind a stack of canned beans is a first aid kit, and I feel heartened because I must be getting closer. Surely, they must keep flashlights somewhere? Or a fire extinguisher? I pick up a huge bottle of ketchup to move it out of the way when suddenly, a deep voice interrupts my snooping.
“Do you need mustard with that?” it drawls with amusement. “We have Dijon and plain.”
“Or maybe you need a dog,” a second masculine voice rasps. “Two big ones, if you get my drift.”
I whirl around, my eyes wide and sure enough it’s the gorgeous twins from before. They’re so tall that their dark heads seem to brush the ceiling of the storage room, those massive shoulders stretching from one end of the narrow aisle to the other. The compact space seems even tinier with them in it, and my heart races as I scramble for words.
“Oh, um, I was just looking for mayonnaise,” I riff spontaneously. “You know, for um ...”