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Having two best friends who didn’t believe in true love had sometimes been a pain in the ass, especially since I’d been living in monogamous, sex-with-one-person-for-the-rest-of-my-life bliss.
I’d been one of the lucky ones. I found the love of my life early, and was determined to hold on to him with both hands. The day Stefan proposed was the best day of my life. I hadn’t thought it possible to be any happier than I already was.
I had the perfect ring, the perfect dress, the perfect flowers. I had the perfect fiancé, and I was going to have the perfect wedding.
Everything was just. Fucking. Perfect.
Until it wasn’t.
See, that so-called love of my life? Well, it turned out I was the only one in our relationship who felt that way. Unfortunately, the inconsiderate son of a bitch hadn’t had the courtesy to give me a heads-up that he’d changed his mind about the whole ‘until death do us part’ thing.
I could have been spared so much humiliation if he’d just manned up and said, “Sorry, Daph, darling, but I’ve had a change of heart. I’ve decided that loving you through sickness and health is just too much stress to put on one man.”
Oh no. Instead, he decided to take the chickenshit route and keep quiet about the whole ordeal. I don’t know what he intended to do once our wedding day finally arrived, but if it hadn’t been for the fact that I walked in on him and my mother in bed together, I probably never would have known he’d been cheating.
And yes, I said my mother! My own flesh and blood, the loins of my fruit, was sleeping with my fiancé.
I’d been living on cloud nine, totally oblivious that the two people who meant the most to me had turned me into a complete laughingstock for months. Not only had they been carrying on their affair right under my nose, but, with the exception of Lola and Sophia, most everyone in my social circle already knew about it.
Apparently, unless one of the three of us was around, they hadn’t taken great strides in hiding what they were doing.
I grew up knowing my mom was different from all the other mothers I saw dropping their kids off at school. She dressed younger, she acted younger, and after she and my father divorced when I was little, she’d had one boyfriend after another, none of them coming even remotely close to her age. She acted more like my best friend than a parent, and for the longest time I thought that was cool. I considered myself lucky that I had a mom who’d let me stay up late, eat junk food, and watch movies most of my classmates weren’t allowed to see yet. But the older I got, the more I started to realize that it wasn’t just her being laid-back and lenient. No, turned out she just didn’t care all that much to be a parent.
Once I hit my late teens, things turned into a competition with her. It was all about who was skinnier, who had the best clothes, the best hair. She even tried turning relationships into a competition, whose boyfriend was hotter. It was absolutely ridiculous, and I tried my hardest not to engage.
Obviously, that didn’t matter. Finding her with Stefan made things completely clear—she was going to take what was mine no matter what.
It was fun finding out the man I was planning on spending the rest of my life with had been banging my own flesh and blood for well over a year and that they’d decided to go and fall in love with each other. And by fun I meant it felt like a million white-hot needles piercing my eyeballs.
Needless to say, I crumbled into a billion pieces. I was inconsolable, a total fucking mess. After locking myself in my apartment and living in the wedding dress I’d never get the chance to wear in public for a solid week, my girls staged an intervention.
It couldn’t have come soon enough. I looked like the Bride of Frankenstein by the end of day six. My hair was a greasy, stringy mess. I hadn’t washed or moisturized any part of my body in far too long. I had pizza sauce and chocolate syrup—that I’d sucked straight from the bottle because I was classy like that—splattered all over my gown.
It was a sight to see. A horrifying one.
Luckily, I had the best friends in the whole entire world, and they were able to kick my ass out of my misery.
It was thanks to them that I was able to get my shit straight and pull my life back together. But the damage from that day had already been done.
I had been forced to learn the ugly truth, that happily ever afters were bullshit created by greeting card companies and the Lifetime Movie Network to give women a false sense of hope.
True love didn’t exist.
Well, maybe it did, but not without consequences. And I’d been bitten by that particularly poisonous snake once already. I wasn’t about to let it strike again.
I gave up on finding Mr. Right and started concentrating on finding Mr. Right Now. And I spent the following years teaching other women to do the same. You know, if that was the direction they were already leaning in.
I wasn’t bitter. I was resigned. I built a life that didn’t revolve around finding a man, and it was a damn good one.
After my failed first attempt at jumping on the marriage bandwagon, I’d officially joined my friends in the All Guys Are Assholes club, and I was totally content to stay there.
After all, once burned, twice shy, right?
No way in hell I was ever going down that road again.
I lifted the mojito the bartender set in front of me and took a long, healthy sip, letting out a relieved sigh after the freshness of the mint and the tang of the lime juice hit my taste buds.
It was exactly what I needed after the week from hell I’d had. I hadn’t spoken a word to my mother in damn near seven years. I’d cut both her and Stefan out of my life completely after their betrayal, even going as far as moving and not giving them my new address. But somehow my mom had found me, and for reasons unknown—because there was no fucking way I was going to answer—she’d been blowing up my phone. I had no desire to hear a word she had to say. Two people that despicable deserved each other, and I hoped they made each other miserable. To say I needed a stress reliever was putting it mildly.
I needed to blow off a crazy amount of steam.
And the alcohol was only part of my process. Placing the drink back on the bar top, I turned and scanned the crowd. I’d picked this particular bar for a reason: it was a regular hangout for the thirty-plus business types. I’d gone through my hipster phase, my bad boy phase, and my party boy phase. Now I was all about the sexy thirtysomething professionals who had enough maturity and experience to know how to please a woman in bed.
Unfortunately, it looked like all the good ones were either staying in for the night or hanging somewhere else. I spun my stool back to the bar and picked up my drink, prepared to down the last of it and head home for the evening. Alone. It wasn’t ideal, but I wasn’t going to settle, even when it came to my one-night stands.
I smiled at the cute bartender—too bad he was too young and too emo for my liking—and slid a couple bills his way before standing and hooking my purse on my shoulder.
“Please tell me the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen isn’t leaving just as I get here.”
I glanced to the right at the man who’d spoken, my interest suddenly piqued despite the lame, clichéd line he used.
His sandy colored hair was styled in a way that said he put in just enough effort to highlight his attractiveness, but not so much that it was obvious he was trying. Golden tanned skin stretched across a jaw and cheekbones that looked like they’d been carved from granite. A strong nose and sky-blue eyes ringed with a thin band of dark gray rounded out his sexy face. My gaze traveled along his impressively tall frame dressed in a designer suit with his jacket slung carelessly over one shoulder.
It was clear he worked out, but he wasn’t one of those meatheads with muscles so thick their heads looked too small for their bodies. He was somewhat lean, but the definition of some impressive biceps showed through his button-down, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up, revealing some lovely forearm porn.
I pasted my most seductive grin on my lips. “Was that your attempt at a pickup line?”
He dropped his jacket onto the empty barstool next to the one I’d been sitting on and leaned his elbows against the bar. The corner of his mouth ticked up in a smirk, revealing two rows of straight white teeth. Mmm, he’s cute. “Depends. Did it work?”
I shook my head, my voice full of humor as I answered, “No. Not at all.”
His chuckle was like melted chocolate, warm, soothing, and sinful. “In that case it wasn’t a line at all. But seeing as you were just picturing me naked two seconds ago, I’m hoping you won’t hold my lack of pickup line prowess against me.”
“Hmm.” I lifted a single brow, toying with him the way I liked to toy with all the guys I picked up. It made things more interesting, fun. “Well, how about you buy me a drink and I’ll see what I can do?”
I dropped my purse off my shoulder, hooking it along the back of my stool, and sat back down. He took the one next to mine and lifted his hand to grab the bartender’s attention, ordering me another mojito and himself a whiskey on the rocks.
“So,” he started once we had our drinks, “what’s a gorgeous woman like you doing here all by yourself?”
Swirling the straw around in my glass, I smiled before placing it between my lips and sipping. “For the same reason you are, I’d assume.”
He leaned close, his elbow brushing against mine. “Is that right?” he asked in a flirtatious tone. “And what do you think my reason is?”
I turned my whole body in his direction, crossing my legs and sitting up straight. I playfully assessed him from top to toe. “Do I get a prize if I’m right?”
“You’re a sassy little thing, aren’t you, gorgeous? Tell you what. If you’re right, maybe we’ll both get a prize at the end of the night.”
I tossed my head back with a laugh. “You really are sure of yourself.”
His throat worked as he tipped back the amber liquid and took a healthy swallow, the ice clinking against the cut glass. He set it down with a contented sigh and turned his attention back to me. “I could ply you with more alcohol and pretty words, but where’s the honesty in that? I’m a blunt kind of guy. I tell it how it is, and the truth is, if you leave this bar with me I can guaran-damn-tee you’ll get off enough times you’ll have trouble walking before the night is over.”
I almost choked on my mojito. Blunt was an understatement. But I damn sure appreciated him laying it out the way he did. It cut through all the unnecessary bullshit. “And I’m all about honesty.” I lifted my drink and clinked it against his. “So I was right, then. You’re here to pick up a woman for the night.”
“And you’re here to pick up a guy. Just my luck.”
Okay, this guy checked every one of my boxes when it came to choosing a hookup. Hot? Check. Confident? Check. Able to hold a conversation without talking directly to my tits? Check. Although, I did catch him sneaking a peek once or twice, just long enough for me to know without a doubt that he was interested.
“Cocky or just confident?” I asked, sucking down the last of my mojito.
“Neither. Just stating facts. How about another round?”
Two was my limit on nights I picked up a man. And before you get carried away, it wasn’t something I did all the time. I wasn’t a whore. I just had a healthy sexual appetite. Usually I had a man or two—or sometimes three—who I kept on speed dial. Soph and Lola liked to refer to it as my roster. I typically only had random hookups when a couple of the guys on my ‘roster’ started getting clingy, wanting more than I was willing to give.
That was why I was out tonight. Aaron and Dylan had both been bitten by the commitment bug and were now gone. Just another example of how the past few days had gone to complete shit.
“Tell you what,” I started, picking up my purse once more. “How about we stop delaying the inevitable and get out of here?”
“Can I at least get your name first?”
I uncrossed my legs, planted one foot on the ground, and stood up between the two stools, bringing me even closer to the sexy stranger. “How about you just stick with calling me Gorgeous and I’ll call you Blue Eyes? No need in learning the name of someone you’re never going to see again, right?”
He tossed two twenties onto the bar and climbed off the stool, grabbing his jacket with one hand and placing the other at the small of my back. “Woman after my own heart. So where to? My place or yours?”
I shot him a wink and started for the door. “Depends on who’s closer.”
Oh. My. God!
He was so much better than I ever would have expected.
My head fell back, my neck unable to support it, as I rode him harder. I was close. So fucking close. His cock hit places inside me that most men couldn’t find with a flashlight and a map. “Oh god,” I whimpered, digging my nails into his defined pecs as I lifted and slammed down. Over and over.
When we’d gotten back to his place and I got him naked, I almost drooled at the sight of what that suit had been covering up. Firm pecs, chiseled abs, and that damn V carved along his hip bones that dipped into the waistband of his trousers.
Ladies, he had the V! I wanted to lick every single glorious inch of him, but he had other ideas, basically stripping me completely bare and feasting on me like I was Thanksgiving dinner. I came twice from his mouth alone before he flipped us and demanded I ride his cock.
I’ll admit, even with my level of experience, the size of it had intimidated me when he first pulled it from his pants. But I’d never been a quitter.
“Fuck yeah, baby. That’s it.” He squeezed my hips tighter as he forced me to grind against him, rubbing my clit along the base of his dick. “Jesus, fuck. You’re so goddamn hot.”
Stars burst behind my eyelids, my whimpers turning into short, loud cries as my orgasm began washing over me. Just as I was about to come, I felt myself flying through the air—literally.
My back hit the mattress and Blue Eyes began pounding into me at an unrelenting pace. And I exploded. I screamed so loud he had to muffle the sound with his palm.
“Sorry, Gorgeous,” he ground out. “Can’t have you waking the neighbors.”
I panted and mewled against his hand as one orgasm bled into the next. The edges of my vision started to turn black. I feared the lack of oxygen was going to cause me to pass out, but damn it was worth it.
Just when I thought I couldn’t take it any longer and my eyes were about to roll back in my head, Blue Eyes let out a ferocious growl, followed by “Yes. Yes. Fuck yes!” Then he began to roar so loud I had to slap my hand over his mouth.
“Sorry, Blue Eyes,” I mumbled once we’d both started to come down. “Couldn’t have you waking the neighbors.”
His chest rattled against mine as he laughed. Cool air rushed over me, causing goose bumps to break out across my skin as he exited the bed. He went to the attached bathroom to deal with the condom, and I climbed from the bed and began searching for my clothes that were strewn all around the room.
I’d just slipped my panties back on and was pulling my bra from where it was draped over the lamp when he spoke, making me jump. “Where do you think you’re going?”
I smiled, slipping my arms into the bra straps. “Pretty sure we both got our prizes for the night, wouldn’t you say?”
He slowly made his way toward me, not the slightest bit self-conscious with his nakedness—not that he had any reason to be. “Oh, but I’m nowhere near done with that sexy little body of yours.”
My eyes nearly bugged out of my head. “Already?”
His large hands spanned my waist. “I’m not as young as I used to be, so I’ll need a bit more recovery time, but that doesn’t mean I can’t eat you again.” He placed kisses along my neck as he spoke. “And that’s.” Kiss. “Exactly.” Kiss. “What I plan to do.”
I let out a peel of laughter as he lifted me off the ground and threw me to the bed.
By the time I finally dressed and headed back to my house, I’d come three more times. And just like he’d promised, I had trouble walking thanks to my jelly-like legs.
Best. One-night stand. Ever.