Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80014 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80014 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“The latter.” He flashed me a smile as he hurried past me and climbed into the Caddy.
As I slid behind the wheel and put the car into drive, I said, “You know what I’m looking forward to? A nice, long blow job.”
“So, it’s been a while, huh?”
“It’s been about six hours.” Why did I say that? My most recent blow job had happened months ago, not earlier this evening. But I didn’t like his assumption that I hadn’t gotten any in a long time. “The part I’m looking forward to is you not talking because your mouth is full.”
Jack burst out laughing and called me an asshole. Then he said, “Joke’s on you though, because I’m fluent in ASL. That means I can keep talking even with your cock down my throat.”
He signed something in what really did look like authentic American Sign Language, and I asked, “What did you just say?”
“I said poor, weeping polar bears.”
I chuckled at that and pointed out, “Okay, yes, this car does have a big engine. But it’s all been modernized, so it’s not as bad as all that.”
“Uh huh.”
“Why do you know ASL?”
“So I can communicate with my best friend.” He turned to look at me and abruptly changed the subject. “Why’d you give the valet a fake name?”
“Because I’d like to keep a low profile while I’m here in San Francisco.”
“You blew it when you handed me a business card with your real name on it.”
“You weren’t someone I wanted to lie to.” Except about the blow job, apparently.
“But that’s what you’re supposed to do with guys you pick up in bars.”
I frowned and asked, “Lie to them?”
“Of course! Create a whole fantasy for them.”
“So, for example, tell them you’re twenty-seven instead of thirty-five?”
“Thirty-four, and once again, fuck you. But yes, exactly. I’ll be lying about being twenty-seven until I’m forty. Fifty, if the Botox works.”
I grinned and told him, “It’s good to have goals.”
“Agreed.”
“So tell me, Jack O’Donnell, what do you do for a living?”
He waved a hand dismissively and said, “I’m in acquisitions, but let’s not talk about work. I’d much rather talk about who was blowing you a mere six hours ago.”
Shit, he wasn’t letting that go. I deflected by asking, “Jealous?”
“Cautious. If there’s a husband or boyfriend in the picture, then—”
“There’s nobody,” I assured him. “I just got lucky earlier this evening when I stopped off for some coffee.” Fuck, this was getting worse by the minute. And this was why lies were such a bad idea—they usually spiraled out of control.
“Hey, we all need hobbies. If yours is being a man-whore, more power to you.”
“So judgmental! How long’s it been since the last time you had sex?”
“A nice, respectable twenty-four hours, thank you very much.”
“And that’s so much better,” I muttered.
“It is! Call me hopelessly prudish, but one sexual encounter a day is generally my limit.” He turned to look at my profile and added, “Plus, if it’s only been six hours, I’m not even sure you’ll be able to get it up again.”
“I didn’t finish earlier. He had to go back to work.” Still spiraling and becoming more ridiculous by the minute. It was too late to back out and admit I was full of shit though, so I just had to roll with it.
“Well, that’s what happens when you let random Starbucks baristas blow you in the parking lot. They only get fifteen minute breaks, you know. That’s usually not enough time for the extra frothy cappuccino treatment.”
I chuckled and told him, “You have a way with words.”
“Thank you.”
“He didn’t work at the coffee house though, and it wasn’t a Starbucks.” Please let this topic die soon!
“I’m glad you clarified that. Those details are obviously important.”
“They are.”
After a beat, he said, “I suppose I should actually be thanking Mr. not-a-Starbucks-employee. If he hadn’t left you with a case of blue balls, maybe you wouldn’t have been out cruising for ass tonight, and I’d have been forced to resort to the matched set of douchebags.”
“You wouldn’t really have let either of them take you home, would you?”
He clicked his tongue and asked, “Now who’s being judgmental?”
“I’m just saying, neither of those men were good enough for you.” We’d pulled up to a stoplight, so I turned to meet his gaze and added, “Not by a long shot.”
2
Jack
This guy was smooth. He knew all the right things to say, like that last comment about those men not being good enough for me. He was right, but we’d met all of fifteen minutes ago, so what was he basing that on? It was obviously just an attempt at buttering me up, same as calling me beautiful.
Annoyingly, I was starting to let my guard down with him, and it was so important not to do that. He was a player, no doubt about it. The fact that I’d found him in a total pick-up joint just a few hours after getting his dick sucked confirmed it.