Trillionaire Boys' Club: The Connector by Aubrey Parker

Author:Aubrey Parker [Parker, Aubrey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

ALEX

NATHAN LEAVES FIRST, BUT THE way he goes now feels different from our last parting. He tells me to call him tomorrow, then takes my phone and enters a number I know at a glance is different than the one I’ve used to call the company. Then we pull ourselves together in the small space and there’s a tiny awkward moment as we look at each other, but it passes faster than it should.

Nathan dragged me into a closet, yelled at me, then put his dick up my butt. We should have trouble meeting each other’s eyes, but we don’t.

“Tomorrow,” he says, buckling his pants. “Don’t forget.”

I don’t precisely reply. Like a demure little lass, I sort of look down and nod. I hate the fact that I don’t reply in a bold, businesslike manner — Yes, of course Mr. Turner; I look forward to transacting further with you at our next appointment — but there just isn’t any way.

He looks me in the eye, squeezes my arm, and gives me a little kiss on the forehead.

By the time I wonder if I should be insulted, he’s gone.

The feel of his kiss remains. I don’t know what just happened. What did that series of little signs mean at the end? Am I his pet? An intern with benefits — someone he has to appease, but who he’s obviously better than?

Somehow none of those explanations feel right. He did it awkwardly, as if it took him by surprise as much as it did me.

I stuff my panties in my purse, try to compose my hair without a shiny surface, then sneak to the bathroom hoping that nothing gross will happen along the way.

I make sure the bathroom is empty, lock the door, and go about putting myself back together. My eye makeup has smeared — either from the penis in my throat or the one in my ass. I use a moistened paper towel to clean what I can, then do a touch-up job in the mirror to hide most of the damage. I’m flushed, so I splash some water on my face.

By the time I sneak back out into the empty hallway, I look normal again in the mirror but am still somehow sure I bear invisible marks. Do I have sex hair in the back? Do I have the look of a girl who’s just had her anal cherry popped?

But I don’t have to worry; when I return to the room the same boring stuff as before is underway. Ashton Moran, Alyssa Galloway, and our university reps are still around the table, talking out issues that I couldn’t care less about. It’s not even stuff about clothing and apps. Now it’s residuals and contractual obligations. They could be discussing insurance plans, for all anyone knows.

And against the wall, my shouldn’t-be-there-but-invited-out-of-respect friends are still in their uncomfortable wooden chairs, looking half-asleep.

“What took you so long?” Jenna asks.

I’ve already prepared an excuse. “My mom called about a minute after I got outside.

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