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To the strong, powerful, independent women who know the power of playing dumb. May the world continue to underestimate you.
Sometimes, I feel bad about ruining the lives of men. Sometimes, I catch glimpses of a different version and see past the carefully crafted one meant to pull unsuspecting people into his web.
“If you’re trying to make me feel bad about conning him out of two hundred bucks, you’ve got the wrong woman, babe. I don’t feel bad for a man who is clearly married and hitting on women at a bar. And I definitely don’t let random assholes like you make me feel bad about any decisions I make in my life.”
“You know, I think in an alternate universe, we could be friends. You with all that sass, absolutely no filter, and—” I cut him off before he can continue. “And you with your dry personality and clear obsession with me?”
“Put her other drinks on here. Keep the previous payment as a tip. And a fresh glass, if she wants,” Rowan says.
“How’s that whiskey you hate so much taste now that it’s on my tongue?”
“You have to prove yourself worthy before you fuck me, Mr.—” I pause, realizing I don’t actually know his last name. “Fisher,” he says, then slides a finger into my wet pussy. “But you can call out Rowan when you come.”
“That was just the start, Josie.” His hand lifts, wet fingers moving to my lips as I stare at him with lust and need. “Clean these.”
The first time I met Josie, I was enamored. The second time, I was annoyed. This is the twenty-second time I’ve bumped into her. Each time I left feeling slightly different, but this is the first time I’m leaving with blue balls.
I’ve never been on my knees for a woman, but my fucking god, the way she looks down at me like she knows she could own me if she asked nicely makes my already hard cock throb.
“If you want me bad enough…a big, powerful man like you…you’ll find me.”
“I’ve never wanted to hit someone more than I did watching you flirt with him on the fucking CCTV. I’m so fucking lost for you that I’m stalking you, scraping through soundless camera feeds for the smallest snippet of you.”
“I don’t fucking care if you’re in the CIA right now, Josie, not when the promise of tasting you is fucking suffocating me.”
“But if you can be a good girl and agree to be quiet, I’ll lick this pretty pussy for you.” His thumb circles my clit.
“You can go through my phone anytime you want, Josie. Ten, twenty-four, eighteen.” “What?” “The code to my phone. Ten, twenty-four, eighteen.” Her lips part, and I have to fight the urge to kiss the look off her. “I trust you, Troublemaker.”
“It’s an absolute honor to taste myself on your tongue, Josie. To know how it got there, that you trusted me enough to give me that? It means everything to me.”
“Ten, twenty-four, eighteen. Your passcode.” My lips tip in a smile. I should have known it wouldn’t take long for my brilliant girl to understand. “The day I met you,” I say. “I didn’t realize until recently, I swear. I think that day has always just stuck with me.” “Sure, Rowan,” she says with a laugh, and I can’t be annoyed: I wouldn’t believe me either. “And that tattoo is just, what?” So she did notice that one. “A coincidence?” “My luckiest charm,” I whisper, then, because I can’t resist, I brush my lips across hers once more.
“How are you so fucking perfect?” I ask, confused because there are very few men in this world who would respond that way. He smiles again before using his hand on my jaw to guide my lips to his, pressing them sweet and soft before whispering against them. “Because I was made to be yours, Josie. It just took us a while to figure it out.”
