Read The Bunk Up (The Village People Book 1) for Free Online Page B

hell does she take up so much room? Her arms and legs can’t be longer than four inches!
    I’m left with an inch of bed, my bare arse hanging over the edge as I try to hook my legs around hers. But she’s having none of it. Jutting her hip out, she wallops me right in the gut and I topple off the edge of the bed, slamming my head once again into the frigging nightstand.
    “Oops. You lost.”
    Glaring up at her when she pops her face over the edge of the bed, her wide smug grin mocking my loss, I quickly grab the blanket from where it hangs over the side.
    “This isn’t over!” I snarl as I huddle the cotton to my chest before she can steal that too.
    As I pull my shoulders back and storm from the room, the acid from the pie leaves my foe with a parting gift.
    “Jesus Christ!” I hear her choked gasp when I slam the door shut behind me, trapping her and my gift in together. “You’re dead inside!” she screams. “You hear me? Dead. DEAD!”
    Beer isn’t so bad for me after all.
     

     

 
    Chapter Eight
     
    Daisy
     
    Of course, I can’t sleep now. Because my mind is full of the gossip back home. The rumours that Mrs H had a secret lover. Not only did she have a lover, she got pregnant to him. Then she let him be raised by someone else, because he certainly never appeared back in Chesterfield. A really cruel thought comes to mind. I hate it when that happens. Like, you know it’s inappropriate, but up it pops. I wonder if she’s sad that she had to keep the ugly one. Because my quick look at mystery man revealed a walking sex god with a huge dick. I got a quick peek. Really , I berate myself. There’s a strange man downstairs in a remote property and instead of fearing attack I’m thinking of going downstairs and asking if I can have a proper look at his cock. It’s not my fault. I’ve only ever seen Marcus’ small one. Now I know that there’s a much improved version just a few feet from me I kind of want to study human biology. I only got the tiniest peek, but it was big and thick. Made Marcus’ seem like a picnic sausage… pickled.
    I throw off the duvet to let some air get to my legs. Christ, I’m so fucking boring. There’s Mrs H, hardly a tooth in her mouth, madly besotted with a son that’s scarier than Chucky, and yet she’s lived. The proof is downstairs. What have I achieved so far? Temporary jobs and a relationship with a tool. In fact, that’s unfair to tools as they can be useful.
    I sit up and try to think of a decent word I can call Marcus from now on. I sound them out with venom so I can know how they’ll sound when I next see him.
    “Twatwaffle.” No. I like waffles. Especially with vanilla ice-cream and maple syrup.
    “Dickhead.” That’s no good either, because it’s a picnic sausage.
    “Christ, I’m hungry now.” I harrumph because I have no food upstairs, haven’t been shopping, and don’t know what DrunkBigDick has downstairs for me to steal.
    “Cunt.” Bingo. That’s my new name for Marcus. He’s a pussy. No knob and wet.
    “Well, hello, cunt. Fancy seeing you again,” I act out.
    The door slides open slowly, making me jump a foot.
    DrunkBigDick stands in the doorway, rubbing his eye. I watch as his gaze travels up my bare legs.
    “Am I still drunk or did you just speak to your vagina?” he asks. “That is after shouting out random swear words for the last ten minutes.”
    I quickly pull the duvet back up over my legs. I face the window as I speak to him. “Erm, sorry. I can’t sleep.”
    “So you repeat swear words rather than count sheep?”
    “I was thinking of a new name for my ex-boyfriend.”
    “Ah. Well, cunt’s a good one. I’ve been called that many times.”
    I forget myself and look at him. “Really? Are you a horrible ex-boyfriend?”
    “Nah, I never let it get that far. More fuck ‘em and leave ‘em.”
    “Lovely.” I realise my eyes have dropped lower as I speak.
    It’s then DrunkBigDick realises he’s come back upstairs