Although I was there to fuck and not exchange family fucking stories, neither of them mentioned their daughter. Worse, Parnell doesn’t recognize all her red flags. One day, he’ll get a call that she’s overdosed. Or find her himself.
He’ll pretend he didn’t know she was an addict, when the evidence is right in front of him. He’s just a fucking idiot.
Georgie raises up on her elbows and tips her head back. Her nipples look delicious, pink, hard and inviting. She coughs and her shoulders shake.
Self-disgust wallops me. I’m devouring the sight of her whereas she’s in need of a hospital.
She touches my wrist, slips two fingers beneath my leather bracelet. “Why are you here?”
Her voice is weak, scratchy.
“Be glad I am,” I bark, my irritation with myself spilling over.
She sidles a glare at me and lays back down on the hard concrete. “Go away. I refuse to talk to you. You’re just going to leave.”
She sounds sad and alone, which I’m well-acquainted with. “Well, yeah, Georgie. I don’t live here.” Thank fuck. “I have to leave.”
A tear rolls down her cheek. “I need to call Crowell. I need more blow.”
The fuck she does. She needs a fucking hospital. I scowl at her. “Who’s Crowell?”
She pokes out her bottom lip. I wince at her behavior. She’s acting as young as she looks. As young as she is. I scoot closer to her. “Well? He your dealer?”
Her eyes round at that, then she coughs and giggles. “No, silly. Crowell is my brother’s best friend. My sometimes lover. The one you punched last night.”
Oh, that asshole.
She frowns, ignoring the internal shock that is freezing the muscles on my face. I don’t want to think of her fucking anyone. Inevitably, I’ll start to think of me fucking her…Fuck…isn’t her brother around the same age as me? Does that mean she’s fucking someone twenty-four or twenty-five?
Fuck, yeah. I saw the motherfucker with my own eyes last night. Definitely, closer to my age than hers.
“Your sometimes lover?”
She nods, closes her eyes and gasps in air, wheezing. “He gives me blow. I feel so good then. He said it all goes away. And it does. Just like when he’s using his mouth on me.”
“His mouth?” My eyes travel to her pussy. “So he only mouth fucks you?”
“I suck him, too,” she responds defensively. “And, I told you I’m a virgin.”
I study her mouth, her lips pale and without their earlier pretty pinkness, think about how they felt wrapped around my cock. “He’s really never put his dick in you?”
“No. But he was really mad that I was with you and we both got naked tonight. I have no one but him. He has a girlfriend, though, and he can’t see me anymore. He was bringing me to your concert and, now, I’m not going.” She sniffles, which won’t help her hoarseness.
This shit isn’t my problem. It isn’t. I’m returning Monday to fuck her mother again. Cassandra may allow her husband to walk all over her—for the money more than likely—but she’s talented as fuck in bed. She’s beautiful, too.
Georgie crawls to her hands and knees. She’s in position for me to fuck her doggy-style. My dick is rock hard and I don’t know for who. Her or Cassandra? I try to insist it’s for Cassandra. She’s twenty years older than me and married. That fucking scandal would be bad enough. Georgie is nine years younger than I am, a felony in the works. No one would care that when I touched her the first time, I believed she was eighteen.
Fucking her again with full knowledge of her age would ruin my fucking career if it became known.
I refuse to let my dick fuck up one more thing in my life.
Georgie wobbles to her feet. She looks at me through the fringes of her lashes and my heart hammers. My head fucking spins at the bleakness in her eyes. She stumbles forward. “Bye, Sloane.”
“Wait! Fuck. You need a hospital.”
Georgie shakes her head. “No. I’m not going to die. I feel a little woozy, but I’m fine. Nothing that won’t go away when I sleep it off.”
Does she not realize the severity of what she went through? “This isn’t a fucking movie,” I snarl, stomping toward her, prepared to toss her over my shoulder and bring her to the ER. “You drowned.”
“I almost drowned,” she corrects me, then makes a sweeping gesture toward her nude body. “I’m here. Not drowned.”
I inch closer to her. The moment I do, she surprises me and stands on her tiptoes to press her cold lips against mine. I have the urge to throw my arms around her and wrap her up in my body heat. Instead, I stand still.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “Really. I can’t remember the last time someone was so concerned about me. I’m not going to the hospital, though. If I’m going to die, I’d prefer to do it somewhere familiar. If I’m dying, the only thing I’ll do in an ER is die alone.”
Before I’m over my shock at her matter-of-fact statement, she’s gone.
Let her walk fucking away.
No.
I can’t let her go like this. She’s heading for the tree a few yards away. “I’m finding your father, so he can deal with you,” I call. “You. Need. A. Fucking. Hospital.”