“Fuck you,” he replied dryly. “I’ll set some cameras up this evening.”
“Go back there and do it now,” I insisted. “Who knows where they’ll be this evening.”
“You want me to go back there now?” He gave me a look. “In broad daylight?”
“You’re resourceful. I’m sure you’ll get something figured out.”
“I’ll get it done and then I’m going home to get some sleep.” He started to turn away, but hesitated. “Are you coming or going?”
“Excuse me?”
“You haven’t taken your jacket off.” He crossed his arms. “Are you coming, or are you going?”
“I just got here.”
He checked his watch. “It’s noon.”
“I was tied up at the police station until a few minutes ago.”
He slung the bag over one shoulder. “Doing what?”
“Some shithead was trying to carjack the neighbor on my way in this morning. I grabbed the guy before he got very far. O’Malley came by and picked him up. I had to go to the station and fill out a report.”
“The girl next door?” He sauntered to the edge of my desk. “The chick you thought was a realtor but ended up being the daughter of your neighbors? The one with all the hair?” He tapped his index finger against his lip as if he were thinking. “Let’s see. Small waist, perky tits, and a ferocious ass. Her?”
“She’d be the one.”
He threaded his free arm through the loose strap. He studied me for a moment, and then shook his head in disbelief. “You fucked her, didn’t you?”
I grinned. “In the diner’s parking lot.”
His brows raised. “Any good?”
“Fan-fucking-tastic,” I bragged. “Not much stamina, though.”
“Single?”
“Yep.”
“Probably hasn’t had any dick in a while,” he said. “Didn’t you say her parents were from Oklahoma?”
“That’s correct.”
“She’d be just like those girls in Iraq that looked at us like they wanted to fucking eat us. Bet she lives in a farmhouse in the middle of no-fucking-where with a bunch of dirty-assed goats and a couple of cows. Probably not a man for miles. Her little pussy was wet the minute you saved her from the carjacker.”
I coughed out a laugh. “Dirty-assed goats?”
He nodded. “I saw one up close in Afghanistan. Believe me, they’re nasty little fuckers.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“Anyway.” He adjusted the weight of the pack. “Sounds like she was starving for some dick.”
“She said it’d been two years.”
His face contorted. “Since she’s had any cock?”
“That’s what she said.”
He seemed confused. “I thought you said she was cute as fuck. Little spinner with a banging body and badass hair.
“She is.”
He took a step back and scratched the side of his head with his fingertips. “Cute as fuck and she hasn’t had any dick in two years?”
“That’s what she said.”
“You never want to be the guy that takes a chick off a dry spell.” He shook his head and looked away. “You’re going to have a clinger on your hands.”
“She lives in Oklahoma,” I replied. “She won’t be clinging to me.”
“After a two-year dry spell, you fucked her in the parking lot of the diner.” He laughed. “She isn’t going back to Oklahoma. At least not right away. She’s going to spend the next few weeks banging on your door every time her twat gets that itch.”
“She’s going back Tuesday.”
“Already got her plane ticket?”
“She’s driving. I think she’s planning on taking some stuff home with her. Said the drive relaxes her.”
“Probably afraid of catching the virus at the airport,” he said. “Smart girl.”
“Not another word about that fucking virus, goddamn it.”
“Fine,” he snapped back. “So, this chick’s leaving in five days, huh?”
“That’s what she said.”
“My money says she’s staying. She’ll have her neighbors feed her nasty little goats and she’ll stay here hoping for one more chance at that dick. She’ll come up with a bullshit reason for not leaving. Needs to meet with a realtor and can’t get an appointment, taking some time to rethink her life’s mission, need to repaint the kitchen, something.”
If I had one weakness it was gambling, and Pratt knew it. I didn’t bet on everything, only what I truly believed in or felt I could control through manipulation. Subsequently, I rarely lost a bet.
“Your money says she’s staying?”
“Yep.”
“How much of your money?”
He puffed his chest. “Hundred bucks.”
“Make it a grand,” I said.
He gave me a side-eyed look. “How good did you fuck her? Give her a little bit of forgetful dick, or did you fuck her like she was the last piece of ass on earth?”
“I beat her shallow little pussy to a pulp. Left depressions in the headliner of my car where her pretty little head hit it,” I replied. “Fucked her until she couldn’t see straight.”
“I’ll take that bet.” He extended his hand. “She isn’t going anywhere.”
I’d made myself clear. The sex was a one-time affair. If I made the mistake of fucking her again, Pratt may be right. All I needed to do to win the bet was keep my dick in my pants for the next six days.
I shook his hand. “It’s a bet.”
Anna
Sex with Braxton began as an itch that needed scratching. Nevertheless, in the twenty-four hours that followed since we did the dirty, I identified three reasons that assured me walking away from him wasn’t going to be a simple task.
First, the fact that he saved me from being harmed—or even killed—caused me to gravitate toward him. I dismissed it as being some weird psychological issue comparable to the Stockholm Syndrome. I’d emotionally attached myself to my savior. It was probably a textbook reaction to the situation, but it wasn’t something I was accustomed to.
Second, although he was breathtakingly handsome, his attractive qualities went well beyond his looks. His calm demeanor allowed me to immediately be comfortable in his presence. The willingness he possessed to intervene and go face-to-face with danger was another attractive quality. Then, there was his job, which I found fascinating.
Lastly, the size, shape, and girth of his dick ruined me from ever being satisfied by anything lesser. I hated to name something so trivial as an outstanding quality, but Braxton’s cock was nothing short of prick perfection. Had it been larger, it wouldn’t have worked. If it were any smaller, I would have enjoyed it, but not to the point that I’d go to drastic measures for another chance at sex with him.
Eager for one more dose of what Braxton Rourke had to offer, I’d devised a foolproof plan to get into his pants one more time.
In search of a set of sockets, I walked into the garage. Beyond the new SUV, a row of red toolboxes was situated against the wall. Seeing them sparked memories of my childhood.