Read Online #TripleX by Christine Zolendz, Angelisa Stone - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Christine Zolendz, Angelisa Stone
Tags: Contemporary
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than parking in the lot at the airport.”
“I thought your brother was freaking loaded?” she asked, peeking into the windows.
“Oh, he is, hence the fact that he drives a Jaguar convertible, but that doesn’t stop him from using coupons and other crap like that to save a buck… including using my driveway as a parking lot for his business trips,” I explained truthfully.
“Damn, this is a gorgeous car,” she marveled, walking around the Jag and inspecting every inch of it.
“It really is. It kind of represents everything I want to be: new, shiny, tiny, sleek, and incredibly sexy,” I joked.
“Crap, me too. Now I have to be frigging jealous of cars, too,” Christine groaned, glaring at the car.
“With a body like that, what more could you ask for?” I said, laughing. “It’s so hot… so freaking hot.”
“Oh, speaking of hot, did I tell you that the air conditioning went out in my van?”
Christine said, frowning. “It’s going to be one hot drive to Vegas.”
Immediately her eyes lit up and sparkled with mischief.
Mine followed suit.
Twitter: Cupcakes. The answer to all life’s questions. #Gonein60seconds #AllYouCanEat
We launched into the street so fast I could swear I felt the pressure of centrifugal force slamming my eyeballs into the back of my skull. I snapped my head in Angelisa’s direction. She sat gripping the steering wheel and shrieking in holy terror. Her eyes were squeezed shut tight.
“Are you crazy? ” I yelled, clutching at my seat belt. “Open your eyes!”
There was a fleeting glimpse of the world outside the car’s tinted windows that blurred by fast. My heart hammered in my ears when she opened her eyes wide and cut across a curb to make a sharp turn onto a narrow side street. My head hit the roof. Pain screamed out from somewhere behind my eyeballs.
“We’re stealing a car!” she screamed.
We were. We were stealing a mother-effing Jaguar!
She stomped the gas harder and flew out onto a four-lane boulevard as if NASCAR racing was her superpower. She cut off a family minivan and veered right. Tires squealed and screeched beneath us. Burning rubber and smoke trailed in our wake.
The sudden terror of a brick wall had me pulling my feet up over the dashboard, ready for impact. Sweat burst out across my face. At the last minute, she swerved to avoid the wall, throwing me up against the passenger side window, face smashed up against the glass.
“Whoops. Sorry.”
“S’ Okay,” I lied through gritted teeth.
Red lights and stop signs, just suggestions.
Yield signs, forget about them .
She drove out of that neighborhood like we were on fire. We were on fire—a fire fueled by freedom and fun.
She took the onramp to the highway doing over 90 miles per hour. I was holding onto anything I could to keep my balance. The seat belt strap cut into my chest. I might even have peed just a little. “Dear Lord. Please watch over this crazy-ass driver and me,” I began. “I don’t want to die.”
She merged onto the highway, crossing all lanes at once. Cars blasted horns, and tires shrilled as drivers swerved out of her way.
“What are you doing?” I asked, bracing myself.
“Turning on the heated seats. I’ve never had a hot ass before,” she squealed.
“Trust me, you do not want to do that! You’ll end up with swamp vag—there’s nothing worse than warm, funky vag,” I explained, turning off the heat. “Plus, it’s June and 75 degrees. Why do you want heat, anyway?”
“Luxury that my old lady van doesn’t have,” she admitted.
“Let’s do this instead,” I yelled, opening the sunroof and sticking my whole torso and head out. With my hair blowing and Ang traveling at breakneck speed, I screamed, “Hey forty, suck it! Forty is the new nineteen, bitches.” Still screaming, I gagged on a mosquito, and picked two out of my teeth.
Then, Angelisa jammed on the brakes and slowed the Jag to 30 miles an hour. I lunged forward,
“I thought your brother was freaking loaded?” she asked, peeking into the windows.
“Oh, he is, hence the fact that he drives a Jaguar convertible, but that doesn’t stop him from using coupons and other crap like that to save a buck… including using my driveway as a parking lot for his business trips,” I explained truthfully.
“Damn, this is a gorgeous car,” she marveled, walking around the Jag and inspecting every inch of it.
“It really is. It kind of represents everything I want to be: new, shiny, tiny, sleek, and incredibly sexy,” I joked.
“Crap, me too. Now I have to be frigging jealous of cars, too,” Christine groaned, glaring at the car.
“With a body like that, what more could you ask for?” I said, laughing. “It’s so hot… so freaking hot.”
“Oh, speaking of hot, did I tell you that the air conditioning went out in my van?”
Christine said, frowning. “It’s going to be one hot drive to Vegas.”
Immediately her eyes lit up and sparkled with mischief.
Mine followed suit.
Twitter: Cupcakes. The answer to all life’s questions. #Gonein60seconds #AllYouCanEat
We launched into the street so fast I could swear I felt the pressure of centrifugal force slamming my eyeballs into the back of my skull. I snapped my head in Angelisa’s direction. She sat gripping the steering wheel and shrieking in holy terror. Her eyes were squeezed shut tight.
“Are you crazy? ” I yelled, clutching at my seat belt. “Open your eyes!”
There was a fleeting glimpse of the world outside the car’s tinted windows that blurred by fast. My heart hammered in my ears when she opened her eyes wide and cut across a curb to make a sharp turn onto a narrow side street. My head hit the roof. Pain screamed out from somewhere behind my eyeballs.
“We’re stealing a car!” she screamed.
We were. We were stealing a mother-effing Jaguar!
She stomped the gas harder and flew out onto a four-lane boulevard as if NASCAR racing was her superpower. She cut off a family minivan and veered right. Tires squealed and screeched beneath us. Burning rubber and smoke trailed in our wake.
The sudden terror of a brick wall had me pulling my feet up over the dashboard, ready for impact. Sweat burst out across my face. At the last minute, she swerved to avoid the wall, throwing me up against the passenger side window, face smashed up against the glass.
“Whoops. Sorry.”
“S’ Okay,” I lied through gritted teeth.
Red lights and stop signs, just suggestions.
Yield signs, forget about them .
She drove out of that neighborhood like we were on fire. We were on fire—a fire fueled by freedom and fun.
She took the onramp to the highway doing over 90 miles per hour. I was holding onto anything I could to keep my balance. The seat belt strap cut into my chest. I might even have peed just a little. “Dear Lord. Please watch over this crazy-ass driver and me,” I began. “I don’t want to die.”
She merged onto the highway, crossing all lanes at once. Cars blasted horns, and tires shrilled as drivers swerved out of her way.
“What are you doing?” I asked, bracing myself.
“Turning on the heated seats. I’ve never had a hot ass before,” she squealed.
“Trust me, you do not want to do that! You’ll end up with swamp vag—there’s nothing worse than warm, funky vag,” I explained, turning off the heat. “Plus, it’s June and 75 degrees. Why do you want heat, anyway?”
“Luxury that my old lady van doesn’t have,” she admitted.
“Let’s do this instead,” I yelled, opening the sunroof and sticking my whole torso and head out. With my hair blowing and Ang traveling at breakneck speed, I screamed, “Hey forty, suck it! Forty is the new nineteen, bitches.” Still screaming, I gagged on a mosquito, and picked two out of my teeth.
Then, Angelisa jammed on the brakes and slowed the Jag to 30 miles an hour. I lunged forward,
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