Page 81 of Pucking Billionaire

“Doesn’t that destroy brain cells?” I ask her.

She coughs. “Alcohol does as well. Now can you please stop being a buzzkill?”

I sigh. Weirdly, the drug smells kind of nice. Very herbal, which makes sense, but also earthy and with hints of either lemon or apple, though that might well be Sophia’s shampoo. Also, the way her lips wrap around that?—

“Is this what peer pressure is like?” I grumble out loud. Because a part of me wants to try the stupid thing. Though she’s much too young to be a peer.

She was in kindergarten when I was under actual peer pressure in high school.

She arches an eyebrow. “Does that mean you want to have a puff? I assure you, the addiction potential is?—”

“Let me guess, ‘less than that of alcohol,’” I say.

She nods.

“Fine.” I extend my hand. “Give it.”

I take the joint, suck in some smoke, and let it out.

She narrows her eyes. “You didn’t inhale.”

I frown. “I didn’t?”

She cocks her head. “You’ve never smoked anything before?”

“No. I’m a fucking athlete. Why would I?”

She snatches the joint back. “Do this.” She drags in such a big lungful of air that her stomach expands.

“Got it.” I take the joint back and do as she suggested… and begin coughing like I have tuberculosis, bronchitis, and pneumonia all at once.

“That was too much,” Sophia says when I can breathe again. “Do it more like this.” She takes the joint, and her ample bosom rises and falls, making my dick hard once again.

When she hands me the joint, I inhale slower and gentler, but I cough once again.

“Have you ever meditated?” she demands.

I nod.

“Breathe in like that.” As she demonstrates, her boobs bob up and down once more, sending the rest of my blood into my already-throbbing cock.

I do a meditative inhale, but the coughing fit that follows is even worse.

She rolls her eyes. “How about I shotgun you?”

“You what me?”

“It’s when I exhale the smoke into your mouth while you inhale.” She takes in a drag and rises on tiptoes, like we’re about to kiss.

Fuck me.

Our lips lock, and she does what she described. As I inhale her smoke-laced breath, I realize that her statement about weed’s lack of addictiveness is bullshit.

If it were delivered this way all the time, I’d be a pothead forever.

“Again?” she asks after she pulls away.

I nod.

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