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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 realize I could handle this. I could handle the wild version of her—the flirt, the chaos—so long as at the end of the day, it’s my eyes she searches for in a room.
“So fucking pretty, so fucking perfect. So fucking mine,”
