Page 51 of Pucking Billionaire

What indeed? Maybe I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the team, but maybe I would be. I’m not yet sure about this myself. There’s definitely something magnetic about Sophia, and I mean beyond her gorgeous looks and those divine tits. Something about her is?—

“I thought so,” she says. “But hey, at least you’re honest.”

I am?

“Are you going to put some dressing on that?” She gestures at my plates—plural.

I examine my food. The appetizer salad had me worried the rest of it would be tiny, but the chef didn’t skimp. There are at least two jars’ worth of chickpeas here, as well as a couple of pounds of vegetables. “If I were at home, I’d sprinkle some hemp seeds on this,” I reply. “But I doubt they have that on the ship.”

“Hemp seeds?” She blows out an exasperated breath. “Of course, you’d consume cannabis but without any of the fun.”

She takes a lump of the lobster tail, drowns it in butter, and puts it into her mouth.

Fuck me. The expression on her face is eerily similar to when she comes.

I move my chair even closer to the table and do my best to focus on the conversation. “You are high as we speak, aren’t you?”

She shakes her head. “Weed isn’t allowed on the cruise.”

Since when did that stop anyone? Also… “Why did you check?”

She shrugs. “I don’t use it that often, but we’re stopping in Jamaica so I was wondering if I could get some there and take it home to celebrate my return with Abigail.”

“Ah. So you’re the bad influence,” I say this with a smile to make sure she doesn’t take offense.

“She’s a much worse influence on me than I am on her,” Sophia says. “I never would have tried alcohol if it weren’t for her, or weed for that matter.”

“How long have you guys been friends?”

If I had to guess, I’d say many years.

“Since seventh grade.” Sophia cuts her steak into small pieces. “She was wearing a skirt, and a bully stole her panties in the locker room. I was wearing jeans, so I gave her mine. She invited me to her house that same day, and the rest is history.”

“Wow. That was kind of you—and at an age when kids are pretty much monsters.”

“Boys are,” she says. “With girls, it’s more of a mixed bag.”

“You might have a point. I can’t picture giving another guy my underwear… or him wearing it for that matter.”

She snorts. “I bet he’d wear it if he wore a skirt in an environment with pre-teen boys who like to lift said skirts.”

“Maybe. Though he would just as likely give the skirt-lifters a black eye—or a broken nose.”

“Like you said.” She spears a chunk of her steak. “Kids are monsters.”

Am I a monster to her too? I’m a grown up, but if someone tried to lift my skirt—metaphorically speaking—I’d still give them a black eye or even break some bones.

“In any case,” Sophia says. “Now that I know weed isn’t allowed on the ship, we’ll have to celebrate the old-fashioned way—with shots.”

I nod. “That’s smart. Don’t do drugs.” It’s the one rule that my parents drilled into me that I follow.

She rolls her eyes. “Alcohol is a drug, just a legal one. I saw you partake in that.”

“Alcohol is a drink,” I say. “It’s not a drug.”

She cocks her head. “You can get high with gummies—and that’s food.”

“Right, but THC is a drug.”

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