Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 144435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
"Get your dick under control so we can finish this rehearsal," Jameson says, as if I decide what the monster does. Frankly, until two minutes ago, I thought he was broken. He hasn't gotten hard for anything in years. Apparently, he isn't broken. He just doesn't work unless Ireland is involved.
Shit. Just thinking her name makes him harder.
"Can we stop talking about my cock?" I'm desperately trying not to think about the curvy little redhead in the front row.
"This band is too close," Jax mutters, walking over to us. "I don't even want to know why we're talking about…Oh. Well, I guess that's why we're talking about your dick."
I'm never going on tour again.
"Um, you guys know we can hear you, right?" Shelby calls up to us.
"No, you can't!" Jameson shouts back to her, making all the girls laugh.
"We can. Your mics are still live."
Not even that's enough to tame the beast.
"We're taking five," I mutter.
"You mean us…or you and your dick?" Jax asks, earning loud laughter from the rest of the band.
Schroeder, Toby, and Kai, who play our backing instruments, are practically fucking wheezing with laughter, the assholes.
I flip them all off, already halfway to the exit on the left side of the stage. But then I say fuck it and reverse course. Everyone here has already heard us discussing my dick. Might as well own the fact that I'm hard as hell for the little redhead currently lighting up the whole damn arena.
I jump off the stage, stomping toward her.
The girls all watch me with wide eyes.
"Don't even think about looking at his dick!" Asher shouts to Brielle.
"What he said," Jax growls to Dani.
They aren't looking. They're too busy gaping as I stop in front of Ireland's seat, trying not to look like a complete fucking horny asshole.
"Hi," I murmur, smiling at her. "I'm Crue. You're Ireland?"
"Yes," she whispers, those clear green eyes eating me up behind her glasses. Fuck, she's sweet. "Ireland Fitzgerald."
Fitzgerald. She's related to Shelby? Little sister? I glance at Shelby, instantly confirming the connection. Yeah, they're definitely related. Shelby's watching me like she thinks I plan to seduce her sister right here in front of everyone.
"Mason said you wanted to interview me. Is that true?"
"I…um…yes?" Her gaze drifts to my cock. I swear to God, he grows three sizes. "I have lots of questions about your member."
Shelby slaps a hand over her mouth. Her friends all die laughing. She doesn't notice. She's still staring at my cock.
I reach out, tipping her head back until her eyes meet mine again. "Eyes up here before I let you ask all those questions you have about my member, Éire."
"W-what?"
I grin, trying not to laugh. She has no clue what she just said.
Shelby leans over, whispering something in her ear.
Her eyes grow comically wide. "I did not say that."
"You did," Shelby says.
Her friends all bob their agreement.
Ireland presses her hands to her hot cheeks, clearly dismayed.
"Let me see your phone, baby," I murmur, not wanting her to dwell on it. It's not the worst thing someone has said to me. Hell, it's not even on the list of worst things someone has said to me. Besides, I'm the one who decided to have this conversation while my dick's standing at attention. If she's flustered, that's on me.
She stares at me like I'm speaking a foreign language, which is just fucking cute. Who am I kidding? Everything about this girl is adorable.
"I need your phone, Éire."
She reaches into her pocket and pulls it out before holding it out to me. As soon as I take it, she squeaks like a little mouse and slaps it out of my hand.
"Wait! You can't look at that!" she cries, her face turning bright red as she dives out of her seat after it.
I get to it before she does, kneeling to snatch it up.
She lunges for it, trying to grab it out of my hands, but I'm a lot faster than she is. Instead of her grabbing the phone, I grab her. She lands on my knee, bent backward over my arm, and staring up at me in shock.
"Oh, he's fast," Dani whispers.
"Uh-huh," Brielle agrees.
Not even Shelby makes a move to help her. They all seem content to watch this play out. Which is good news for me since I don't particularly relish getting my ass kicked by a bunch of girls while my dick bobs in the wind.
"What's on the phone, Ireland?"
"N-nothin'," she drawls in the sweetest Southern accent.
I tap the button on the side to bring the screen to life and then turn it around, praying she has facial recognition set up.
"Wait!" she cries as soon as she sees my plan. But it's already too late. The phone unlocks, granting me access.
I immediately see what she wanted to hide. Henry Cavill's Geralt in a bathtub. At least she has good taste. The Witcher is phenomenal. I'm not looking forward to hating Henry Cavill for the rest of my life, but it's inevitable if she's got a thing for him.