A Broken Us (London Lover Series Book 1) by Amy Daws Read Free Book Online Page A

time he starts rifling through the
fourth suitcase, I’m beginning to fear he won’t find anything suitable. I sure
as hell won’t fit into Leslie’s clothes!
    “This will do. Now, tart yourself up so I can
escort you to the club and make all the men envious of my new bitch,” Frank
says, with flair, as he exits my room.
    Frank has selected a long red high-waist skirt
with a cropped, tight cheetah t-shirt. The t-shirt is a spandex material and a
totally impulsive purchase I’d picked up in a thrift store back home. I actually
never found a place to wear it, so I am excited Frank put these two pieces
together for me.
    I throw my long brown hair up high on my head
into a cute topknot that looks effortless, but chic. I jazz up my makeup a bit
thicker than I normally would, drawing out my eyeliner into a bit of a cat-eye
look. I throw on a long gold-pendant necklace and make my way downstairs.
    Frank must be impressed because he doesn’t
scream at me to run upstairs and start over. “You look decidedly fuckable , my dear.”
    “Oh?” I ask, cocking my head to the side.
    “ I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole, and believe me, I’ve got one under
here,” he says, gesturing toward his crotch. “But if I were a betting man, I’d
bet you’ll draw some attention tonight.”
    “Aw, Frank, that’s the sweetest thing you’ve
ever said to me!” I answer, smiling gaily at him. “You look rather fetching
yourself!”
    “Thanks, my dear,” he says, adjusting his
skinny black tie over his denim button-down. Thankfully, he’d swapped the denim
jeans for a pair of skin-tight red slacks. It’s still nothing I’ve ever seen
back home, but I can definitely see some style going on in there.
    “If I had a dick,” I pause, wondering how he’ll
react, “…I’d stick it in you.”
    “Oh, for fuck’s sake. You and Leslie are definitely
friends. Two bitches in a bloody pod. Let’s fucking go.”
     

CHAPTER SEVEN

 
 
    As we walk into Shay, the music is roaring. I’m
surprised to hear several American pop songs playing loudly over the grand
room. The British music scene is pretty awesome, but it’s nice to hear songs
from home that I’m familiar with.  
    We walk around for what feels like a good
twenty minutes before finally finding Leslie. She has a table on the upper
level that surrounds the packed dance floor. She already has three mixed drinks
sitting in front of her as she turns to me with eager and excited eyes,
obviously appraising my outfit.
    “FIN! Who knew you had it in you?” she stares
at me with mock appreciation.
    I self-consciously cover the exposed four
inches of belly above the high waist of my skirt, and frown at her. “Oh, come
on. You’re not the only one who can have cute clothes, you know!”
    “I know! But you’re already a good foot taller
than me, the least you could do is throw me a bone and let me win the clothing
contest,” she laughs, incredulously.
    Leslie looks gorgeous. She’s sporting a trendy
little black dress with pointy shoulders and triangular cutouts on the sides.
She’s painted her pout a deep matte-red and her bob is fluffed with extra body.
    “You made that, didn’t you?” I ask, touching
the shoulder point on one side.
    “Yep!” she replies, proudly.
    “You are too fabulous,” I say, grabbing her
hand and twirling her so I can inspect the back—or should I say, no back . Three silver chains drape
across an open back and dangle sexily toward her bottom. I give her ass a good
smack and she squeals in delight.
    “What about me, Lezzie?” Frank asks, looking
rather forlorn.
    “Frank, you know I love your wacky style. You
look cool, as always,” she says, kissing him on both cheeks, “Now, let’s
drink!” she announces loudly, handing us our beverages.
    Since the music is so loud, we do a lot of
drinking and people-watching, but not much talking. I’m glad for that though;
my thoughts seem to be getting darker and darker the more vodka tonics