But it’s too fucking late. She’ll never forgive me even if she does believe me. Lying to her is almost as bad as hurting her.
Still, I can’t stop the thoughts from churning around in my head all night instead of falling asleep. Which means that Sunday morning I am in a foul fucking mood, even grumpier than usual, sipping a cup of coffee when Zoe struts into the kitchen. At least she’s wearing more than a bikini, but the sleeveless, black-and-white checkered flag dress hugs her curves so tightly I’m not sure how she can breathe in it. Her tits are pushed up together, overflowing from the top, making her cleavage look like a landing strip designed for a tongue or a cock. My tongue or cock, more specifically, since I don’t want to think about any other man touching her.
“I’m ready when you are.” Zoe sweeps her long brown curls behind her shoulders like she’s afraid they’ll obstruct the view of her tits. “Unless you changed your mind?” she adds when I don’t move or respond. I’m still staring at her breasts and fantasizing about licking them, just like tons of other guys will be doing soon…
“Oh, I’m fucking coming,” I tell her as I get to my feet. “Give me a minute.”
I need to go brush the bitter taste of jealousy from my mouth, along with the coffee. Not to mention unzip my cramped jeans to give my hard cock a little room to breathe until I get it under control.
It’s going to be a long fucking day.
There are as many, if not more, men at the race track than there were at the dealership, waiting to see Zoe. Most are probably here for the race that starts at one o’clock, and getting a photo with her is probably just the cherry on top of their Sunday morning.
By some miracle, I manage to stand a few feet behind Zoe and not break any hands while she talks to asshole after asshole. I do take a sick pleasure in photobombing most of the pictures. Try beating your dick with my angry mug in the background, fuckers.
Between fans, Zoe glances over her shoulder, like she’s checking to see if I’m still there.
And hell, I don’t know if she would prefer for me to get lost or if she’s relieved I haven’t left.
Zoe
* * *
“Who’s that dude? Your bodyguard?” a young guy with brown hair brushing his shoulders asks while I sign his Playboy from when I was on the cover a few years ago. I’ll need to bathe in a huge bottle of sanitizer as soon as this is over.
“What dude?” I ask when I hand him his magazine and follow his line of sight. Of course he’s referring to Winston’s grumpy ass. “Oh, don’t mind him. That’s just my stepbrother.”
In his leather biker cut with his arms crossed over his chest and dark sunglasses over his eyes, he looks incredibly menacing. And highly annoyed.
“He looks very…protective,” the guy observes. I would’ve used the word angry to describe him.
I didn’t ask Winston to come with me. I warned him it was going to be hot as fuck with nothing to do but stand around and wait in the blazing sun. Still, he came and hasn’t moved an inch in almost two hours.
“Don’t mind him. He’s just grumpy because he wants to fuck me,” I tell him honestly.
“Huh?”
“Smile for your photo!” I tell him cheerfully when I hook my arm around his elbow and turn him toward the photographer.
“Got it. Next!” the photographer says, shooing the young guy away as two older men approach.
“Big fans,” the first one says, flashing me a yellow, toothy grin.
“Thanks,” I reply, keeping my fake smile in place. “Do either of you have anything you want me to sign?”
“You can sign my dick,” the second says, grabbing himself through his denim shorts as they both chuckle.
“Sorry, but I’m guessing Zoe wouldn’t even fit on it,” I reply.
Both of their grins fall as they look at each other, trying to figure out if that was meant to be insulting. It was.
“Just because you’re hot doesn’t mean you have a right to act like a cunt,” the first guy finally says before the second one in the denim shorts grabs my jaw and gets in my face. His eyes are scarily empty, like some sort of psychopath, as he hurts me while he squeezes. “Let’s see how little you think my dick is when I shove it down your—”
He doesn’t get to finish his threat or say another word. As soon as Winston yanks him back, putting him in a chokehold with this thick arm pressing against his neck, he thankfully lets my aching jaw go.
“Whoa, man!” the yellow-toothed hick says as he moves in to try and grab Winston’s arm. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
Winston drops him to his knees with a hard elbow to the gut.
“Get these bastards out of here now!” Winston shouts over to the guys working security at the front gate who come rushing over. They stand around, unsure what to do, until Winston tells them, “They assaulted Zoe!”
“Oh, well, time to go,” one of the security guards says as three of them grab up the two jerks and walk them toward the exit.
“We’re paying customers! You can’t make us leave!” the one who grabbed me yells.
“We didn’t assault shit!” Yellow Teeth declares.
“You don’t have a choice. Either leave on your own or the cops will escort you down to the police station,” I hear the guard explain as they take them out.
“You okay?” Winston asks me, his chest rising and falling with his panting breath.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Reaching up to my jaw, I rub my finger and thumb on either side where I can still feel his harsh grip.
“You sure?” Winston bends down to see my face closer and I’m thankful for the sunglasses covering my eyes so he can’t see them welling up with tears.
“Yes! I can’t believe you…”
“Don’t even think about biting my head off for getting them tossed out!” he growls.
“I wasn’t. Jeez. Will you let me finish?” His jaw ticks but he doesn’t say another word. “I was going to say I can’t believe you did that, but that I’m glad you did. I’m…relieved you were here.”
“Oh,” he mutters, sounding surprised.
“I’m still not going to sleep with you,” I say, just to try and lighten the mood. Mostly, it’s a reminder to myself because seeing his tough, protective side is seriously hot.
“Is that really why you think I stepped in?” he asks, his hands braced on his hips.
“It was a joke, Winston! Calm down.”
“It’s almost one o’clock so I hope you’re about done for the day,” he grumbles. “I’m not sure how much more I can take.”
“I am,” I agree, even though there are still a dozen or more men in line. I’m just not sure I can handle one more jackass staring at my boobs or hiding their hard-ons with my photos. “Now, it’s time you get to have a little fun.”
“Me?” Winston asks.
“Yes, you. Come on,” I tell him, grabbing his hand to drag him over to the stands.
“Where are we going? To watch the race?”