PLEASURE ME, DADDY
BOOK THREE
VIOLET POV
My stupid pumps aren’t cut out for this weather. Cold water squelches between my toes, and my breath is misty, wet hair like frozen straw against my cheeks. I can hardly see through the rain.
Damn my birthday for being so late in November.
Damn me for not thinking harder about my wardrobe choices.
I wasn’t planning on being out this late, eighteenth birthday or not. I’m dressed for a quick coffee on a cloudy afternoon, not for clubbing through a stormy evening – leggings and a strappy cami under a fluffy teal cardigan that holds more rain than it keeps out. This stupid scenario is all Maggie Connor’s fault, insisting it wouldn’t be a proper birthday celebration unless it involved getting trashed in some sleazy club in the backstreets of Bright
