Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 131330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
My gaze swings back to the screen, and a wave of guilt crashes through me, but this time, my gaze doesn’t dare drop to the apex of Aspen’s thighs. Instead, I put the footage in triple speed and quickly make my way to the end before promptly hitting delete on everything that happened in the dark room.
Then just to be on the safe side, I watch as she meets up with Becs and keep my eye on her until she’s finally back in an Uber and speeding away from the club. Once all evidence of Aspen and Becs ever being here is gone, I pick my phone up off the table and send Austin a text, knowing he’ll be waiting for confirmation.
Izaac - It’s done.
Austin - All of it? Make sure she’s permanently banned. I want her face plastered to Casey’s desk so she can’t slip through the cracks.
I grit my teeth. I know I agreed to have her banned, but it doesn’t sit right with me. Not even a little bit. If she wants to return to Vixen, she should be able to, but on the other hand, if she were turned away at the door, it would take the temptation away right along with her, and there’s no denying the benefits of that. Then out of the sake of protecting my relationships with both Austin and Aspen, I agree.
Izaac - Consider it done.
11
ASPEN
Mindlessly swiping through the less-than-appealing options on Tinder, I try to find someone who might be able to come close to making me feel the way my perfect stranger did at Vixen last week, but I know deep down that nothing will compare to what I experienced with him. Not even a little bit.
It’s been a busy week, and after spending every night working on that damn assignment and forcing myself to concentrate, as opposed to thinking about things I shouldn’t have been, I was finally able to hand it in. Every day was a headache. My perfect stranger has left me needier than ever, and now that I know just how good it can be, I’m desperate for more. Every toy in my bedside table has been overused and abused this week, and now, late on Thursday night, I’ve never been so sexually frustrated.
With one hit, I’ve become his greatest addict.
Nothing will compare, and something tells me that no matter how high and low I search, no other man will be able to make me come the way he did.
Getting to be with the mystery man from Vixen was like finding a complete checklist, and getting to tick them off along the way was the best fun I’ve ever had.
Tall - Must be tall enough to have childhood trauma from people constantly telling them ‘You should play basketball’.
Hot as fuck body - MUSCLES! MUSCLES! MUSCLES! If he’s not capable of throwing me around, I don’t want it!
GINORMOUS MONSTER COCK!!!! - Must be both thick and long for extra deep penetration, and if he can’t stretch those walls, forget it! I WANT TO CHOKE ON THAT GIRTH!
Dick piercing - Every girl loves a little bling!
A tongue that could send a woman to an early grave - Do these come with vibration mode? Asking for a friend.
Skill set - Hasn’t learned everything he knows from watching porn.
A filthy mouth, and I don’t mean bad hygiene. He shouId know when to call me a dirty little slut and when he shouldn’t.
KNOWS WHERE THE CLIT IS AND WHAT TO DO WITH IT!!!!!
Okay, so maybe my list is describing the rarest of men, but I don’t think it’s that much to ask for, right? Sure, I might find a guy who has a few of those qualities, but what’s the likelihood that I’ll find one who has them all? It’s not possible. Besides, if sheer luck happens to see one fall willingly into my lap, there’s no way I’ll be able to hold on to him. Now, a girl like Becs, she could. But me and my lack of . . . everything? There’s no hope for me.
It’s time to face the music. Mystery Vixen man has ruined me.
Disappointment floods through me as I continue swiping through my Tinder options. They’re really not looking good, and honestly, the few who might have just a little potential have been skipped past too because deep down, I know it’s pointless.
But that fucking itch that needs to be scratched! I can’t live like this! I need to be thoroughly fucked by something that isn’t battery operated.
Damn it!
I can’t take it anymore.
Swiping through the Tinder options, I demand myself to stop on the next guy who shows just a fraction of potential and open his profile.
Colton Firebird.
My lips twist with distaste. There’s no way that’s his real last name, but he’s also kinda cute. Dark hair and a sharp, chiseled jaw, and with that cocky smirk, he looks like he eats, sleeps, and breathes pussy. His profile says that he’s six-four, but also specifically states that he’s only looking for a booty call. He’s not looking for a girlfriend or anyone who won’t be able to say goodbye at the end of the night.