Inappropriate

by Vi Keeland

Setting my heavy box on the floor in front of me, I pointed my finger at him and began to shout at the top of my lungs. “This man uses his position to try to take advantage of women. He just fired me and gave my job to some young girl because he thinks she might spread her legs to say thank you. I guess he isn’t familiar with the #MeToo movement.”

“You’re Grant Lexington?” “I am.” “And you knew who I was at the coffee shop?” I swallowed. “Yes.” “God, I gave my number to a liar. That’s worse than a serial killer.”

I probably needed my head examined, but watching her out Bickman and tell me off made my dick twitch. It was even better than the current view of her sexy ass as she tore out of my building. I smiled and shook my head. Maybe we were both a little nuts. “So I’ll call you about our lunch date later then?” I yelled after her. She raised a hand without looking back and gave me the finger.

She gathered her purse and started to walk away, then turned back. “Oh…and I gave you my number for lunch. Obviously this means I can’t go out with you.” “Of course.” I smiled. “Turns out you’re not my type anyway.” Ireland narrowed her eyes. “And what exactly is your type?” “The non-pain-in-the-ass type. Have a good day, Ms. Richardson.”

Once my cock was inside her beautiful mouth, she lowered her jaw a little more and shocked the crap out of me by swallowing. Fuck me. She can deep throat. I’m done.

Marry a woman who scares you a little, one who makes you think what the hell is she doing with a jackass like me? Then spend the rest of your life trying to live up to what you think she deserves.”

My aunt used to say grief was a lot like swimming in the ocean. On the good days, we could float on top with our heads above water, feeling the sunshine on our faces. But on the bad days, the water grew violent, and it was difficult not to get sucked under and drown. The only thing we could do was learn to be stronger swimmers. But I knew there was another way to keep afloat—find a life raft.