Stand (Black Addiction Book 3) Read Online Free Page A

insistence that we only eat organic and carb free hadn’t bugged me initially, it wasn’t my stomach being left unsatisfied as why I was rocking a headache from hell. “It seems there is no direct correlation to the size of a man’s body to other parts of him.” I tried my best not to be unnecessarily crude. Not that there was any other way around it, his fingers had been more substantial.
    “Whoa. Hold on a minute.” Jules refused to let me wallow in my self-induced misery as she grabbed my shoulders forcing me to turn around. “He had a small cock? That can’t be right, he was like seven feet tall.”
    “This thing wasn’t a cock. I’ve seen cock, trust me, this didn’t qualify.” I dared to crack open an eyelid. “I’m assuming it’s either steroid usage, or the reason for the rest of him being so big is compensation.” I wriggled my little finger, “It’s like it stopped growing or something. I even snuck a look at his ID while he was in the bathroom to make sure he wasn’t a mutant sixteen year old and I needed to hand myself to the cops.”
    The fear had been real.
    While the chances of him being a minor were remote, I wasn’t about to end my career, face statutory rape charges and be fodder for the Mommy Mafia of my current work place. Thankfully, the crisis was averted with him being of legal age, but the experience drove me to drink. Heavily.
    “I swear, it could only happen to you.” Jules laughed, my misfortune being her morning entertainment. “Why don’t you haul yourself out of bed and I’ll make you waffles. Lots of syrup. It’s either going to soak up some of the alcohol or put you in a carb coma, either way you’re bound to feel better than you do now.”
    As unappealing as leaving the warm sanctuary of my comforter was, she had a point. My dinner of macrobiotic, organic, free range whatever hadn’t been appetizing, which meant most of it stayed on the plate, another reason as to why the wine had done its worst. Last night had just been a disaster.
    “You’re so good to me.” I marveled at how, despite my failures in the relationship department, I really did lead a charmed life. Finding Jules and my new job was better than I’d ever hoped.
    “I know.” She shrugged, “But you’d do the same for me, so we’ll call it even.”
    She was right. I would totally do the same for her, even if I’d known her a fraction of what I’d known my other friends.
    Jules didn’t linger, making good on her promise to feed me and bring me back to sobriety with calorie laden breakfast food. And I decided to help the process along by trying to wash away last night’s disaster under a spray of hot water and a gallon of shower gel. As much as moving made me want to hurl, getting clean did make me feel marginally better. Plus, I had smelled the cheap wine oozing from my pores when I’d lifted the comforter and if the hangover wasn’t enough to make me nauseous, my own eau-de-wino surely would.
    After toweling my body dry until it pinked, I pulled on a pair of sweats and a favorite unicorn T-shirt. The sweats were for comfort, not function, with my resolve to never step foot inside that gym anytime soon well and truly in place. And the T-shirt was my fave; the well-worn fabric hugging my body like a second skin. I also forwent the bra because . . . who the hell cared? It was Saturday morning and I had no one to impress.
    “You almost look normal.” Jules smiled, pulling out two plates and placing them on the counter. “I hope you’re hungry, I made loads.”
    “Uh-huh.” I picked up my juice and sipped it tentatively. I didn’t want to get cocky; puking wasn’t completely off the table.
    The plates had just been loaded up with waffles, ready to be smothered with syrup when there was a knock at our door.
    A knock.
    Jules and I locked eyes as a surge of panic overrode the hangover.
    “Does he know where you live?” she whispered, her eyes darting between me and the door.
    “Even if