Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 93699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
I wanted the filthy ones.
I continued swiping until I found a video, then I pressed play.
Travis’s perfect smile appeared onscreen, forcing butterflies to take flight in my stomach. The camera slowly zoomed out, revealing more of the frame.
Completely naked, with his huge, rock-hard cock in his hand, Travis leaned back in a plush grey chair. He was staring intently at the camera, his eyes glazed over.
Stroking himself, like he did when he first taught me how to take all nine of his inches down my throat, he let out an unsteady breath.
“You should be here with me right now,” he said, teasingly licking his bottom lip,“sitting on this dick.”
My breathing slowed as he spread his legs a bit further apart.
“Then again, we haven’t fucked in a while.” He paused. “So, whenever your plane lands and you finally get here, I need you to get on all fours for me. I need you to—”
I closed the video mid-sentence and powered off my phone.
“He no longer exists, Tati,” I whispered. “He no longer exists. Stop looking at this.”
Opening my notebook, I forced myself to do some real work: Jotting down performance notes for my client.
For all of thirty seconds.
I restarted my phone and slid under the covers.
Watching all his videos one last time won’t hurt anything.
FIVE
PRESENT DAY
TRAVIS
Las Vegas, Nevada
I couldn’t get Tatiana or that terrible engagement ring out of my mind.
The “jewel” was obviously cubic zirconia with a plastic band to match, and she should’ve been too ashamed to wear it in public.
She was still sexy as hell without even trying, still sarcastic as ever, and I couldn’t believe she was serious with another guy.
A guy who clearly didn’t deserve her.
“Mr. Carter?” the poker dealer asked, pulling me back into reality. “Mr. Carter?”
“Yes?”
“It’s your turn, sir.” He glanced at my hand.
I looked around the room in awe of how far I’d fallen. Months before my loss, I would be in a public high rollers room, winning round after round.
Now, I was sitting in my condo with a rented dealer, losing to inanimate objects.
“I’m folding,” I set down my cards. “Can you deal another round for me and my friends, please?”
He nodded, and as if this type of game was normal, he dealt cards to my “friends.” A pair of gloves, a pack of Ralph’s cigars, and an MMA Forever magazine.
Ding dong! The doorbell sounded. Ding dong!
“It’s open,” I said. “You can come inside.”
Ralph stepped inside and rushed to my liquor cabinet, pouring himself a shot. He knocked it back and poured another.
“Thank you for asking,” I said. “I appreciate that.”
“At this point, you may want to consider retiring from fighting to fill out job applications.” He shook his head. “Your own whiskey company—the brand you helped to start—is currently having a meeting about whether they need to take your name off the bottles.”
“That might not be a terrible idea.” I picked up my new cards. “I’ve been meaning to change the packaging.”
“I’m being serious, Travis.”
“As am I.” I took one glance at the hand and folded. “If these companies want to drop my name and likeness from their brands, let them,” I said. “But once things turn around and they come crawling back like the snakes that they are, we’re slamming the door in their faces.”
“As inspirational as that sounds, Rocky—” He sat beside me. “You’re skipping one key component.”
“What’s that?”
“Likability,” he said. “You need to dig deep and channel the best qualities of the man you used to be so we can get back to that point.”
“Look.” I refused to go there. “I can’t turn back time and return to being The Humble Kid who lives paycheck to paycheck. You and I both know that the moment I started trash-talking and saying, ‘I’m too fucking good to lose,’ that my career changed for the better.”
“You could at least create a video for your fans. Tell them how sorry you are for letting them down with your recent behavior.”
“As long as I make it clear that I’m being forced.” I motioned for the dealer to start another round.
“You also need to pen a handwritten card and write a check to that fan you slapped.”
“For the umpteenth time—” I held back a sigh. “That fan slapped me first.”
“Well, he’s hired the best lawyer in Vegas and he’s threatening to sue you for ten million dollars.”
“Do you have an ‘I’m sorry’ card?”
“I thought so.” He pulled one from his breast pocket and handed me a pen.
“Write something from the heart, Travis.”
I wrote the first words that came to mind before returning it to him.
“I’m sorry you got what you deserved?” Ralph shook his head. “Really, Travis?”
“Okay, fine. Do you have another card?”
“Ten steps ahead of you.” He pulled out another. “Just sign your name and I’ll write the damn note.”
“Perfect.”
When I finished, Madeline entered the room with an older man at her side.