My So-Called Perfect Life

by K. A. Berg

  She shakes her head and fills the shot glass in front of me. “Last one until you eat some of those.”

  I cringe as I toss back another shot of vodka. Typically, I’m a mixed-drink kind of girl. Straight liquor isn’t my thing, but I guess my life is filled with firsts. I’ve never sat at a bar, icing my punching hand. I’ve never watched a homemade porn, starring my fiancé. I’ve never wondered what the hell I was going to do with my life now. I’ve always been ten steps ahead.

  I stuff some nachos into my mouth and barely taste them. I wipe some guacamole off of my chin as I try to ignore the man who keeps glancing at me from less than three feet away. He’s doing something at the register, but he keeps shooting his eyes over to me every couple of minutes.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I feel him look at me. My eyes meet his, and we have this intense stare-off until I blink and remind myself to ignore him. The last thing I need at the moment is a man screwing me over further.

  A few minutes later, Roxy returns. “What did this one do?”

  “His assistant.”

  “Ouch.” She winces. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize for my stupid fiancé,” I bark indignantly, picking apart the bar napkin in front of me as my emotional gears shift back to anger. “It isn’t your fault men are all imbeciles who think with their dicks and then tell you it didn’t mean anything. Who falls for that it didn’t mean anything shit anyway?”

  A shadow darkens the bar just as I finish speaking. I look up from my tattered napkin to find blue eyes staring down at me, accompanied by a smirk. He has a commanding presence about him that has me unable to look away.

  “It isn’t nice to stereotype us, you know?” His voice is like velvet and dark chocolate mixed together. It makes me shiver.

  What the hell? Where is all this coming from?

  “Yeah, well, when a majority of you figure out how to keep your dicks in your pants and learn the definition of commitment, we’ll stop judging you all the same.”

  Roxy snorts.

  “Someone hurt you good, huh?” Mr. Sexy asks.

  Mr. Sexy? Holy crap, this vodka is kicking in fast.

  “Well, if you call doing his assistant in the restroom two minutes before walking down the aisle to marry me, hurting me good, then yeah.”

  “Double ouch,” Roxy whispers. “So, how did that happen?” She juts her chin out toward my hand.

  It kind of feels good to get this off my chest with strangers rather than with Amelia and Mercy. These people don’t know me.

  “He came over to try and get me to take him back,” I explain before grabbing another nacho. “Told me it didn’t mean anything, and he doesn’t want to be with her. I mean, is that supposed to work? Supposed to fix anything? He let her record herself giving him a blow job, and I saw it. Up close and personal. Bad enough he did it, but then I had to see the betrayal with my own eyes. But it didn’t mean anything, so it’s all okay. We can go back to normal and get married as if he didn’t commit the ultimate relationship sin.”

  “And that’s when you punched him?” she asks.

  “No.” I shake my head. “I punched him and kicked him in the balls after he told me that if we were over, then he was going on our honeymoon with Mandy. That’s his assistant.”

  “Girl,” Roxy drawls. “You are my hero.”

  I chuckle. The girl support coming from this woman who looks like a total badass herself feels good. “I also wished him good luck with getting it up after that kick to his dick.”

  “He deserved that and more.”

  Scott deserves every bit of Karma coming to him. If only that erased the pain of what he did.

  “I can’t help but wonder why. Why me? What did I do to justify this? Why wasn’t I enough, you know? I thought I was worthy of more.”

  Mr. Sexy hasn’t said anything, but I know he heard every word. I feel a tad raw, having admitted those thoughts aloud. Especially in front of a man who most likely has panties dropping for him nightly.

  I know Scott’s actions have nothing to do with me and everything to do with him. I’m a smart woman, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. It doesn’t make the fact that, regardless of whatever, I wasn’t enough for him. It doesn’t matter that he had no problem sticking his dick in a woman who wasn’t me. And then was going to marry me right after. But it still hurts. My hand unconsciously rubs my chest over my heart.

  “Hey.” His rich voice fills the air as he grabs the hand still clutching the napkin in a death grip.

  My eyes meet his, and his stare is intense.

  “He did you a favor.”

  “Cheating on me with his assistant was doing me a favor?” I scoff, wanting to pull my hand back but don’t. For some reason, his touch calms me. It’s probably more the vodka than him but whatever.

  “Yeah.” He nods. “Any asshole stupid enough to cheat when he has the chance to wake up next to you for the rest of his life is a moron and not worthy of you at all.”

  I don’t know whether his words make me want to laugh or cry. They’re a total cliché, which seems to be my thing this weekend, but what red-blooded woman doesn’t want to hear the super-hot, looks-like-a-bad-boy man tell her that her dumb ex isn’t worthy of her?

  I’m only human, and I seem to be in attention-craving mode. But the rawness is still there, so I try to salve it with a joke.

  “Maybe I should’ve thanked him rather than outed him in front of all our friends and family.”

  “You outed him?” Roxy laughs as she places a glass of water down in front of me. “Badass. You want another drink?”

  “Sure, I’ll have a Jack and ginger, please.”

  It’s not like I have anything better to do on this fine Sunday evening. I don’t have to be at work in the morning. The school year ended last week, and my summer camp job doesn’t start until the first. I’m supposed to be on vacation, starting tomorrow. Why not get drunk?

  For the next twenty minutes, as the bar gets a little busier, I sit, sipping my drink and finishing my food. The little game of glances between me and the hottie bartender continues even as he and Roxy work around each other, seamlessly taking orders, pouring drinks, and delivering food. It feels like he’s looking into my battered soul at the moment and caressing it each time our eyes meet.

  A few minutes later, a large group at the end of the bar heads out, and the din quiets down a bit. A perfect summer night, and while life continues in the city, I’m sitting here, alone, getting drunk and wallowing in my misery, when I promised myself I wouldn’t.

  “So … what now?” Roxy asks as she clears away my now-empty dish of nachos.

  “What I should do is find someone to sleep with,” I say, changing my mind about not needing a man to further mess up my life. While I’m sitting in here and life is going on out there, Scott is probably back at his place—which at this point, should be our place—banging Mandy in the bed where he used to make love to me. “Well, I knew I wasn’t necessarily satisfied in bed, but I wasn’t unsatisfied either. Scott was definitely disappointed, or he wouldn’t have cheated, so maybe it’s my turn now. I was with Scott for most of my twenties. Maybe it’s my turn to explore all the world has to offer.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Roxy encourages in true sisterhood solidarity. “Screw him. Don’t let him make you feel bad. Find some hot stud and forget all about whatever his name is.”

  Some customers at the other end of the bar give a yell, and Roxy heads to help them.

  “I don’t think that idea is a very good one.”

  “Why not? I’ve never had revenge sex before,” I say to Mr. Sexy, trying to ignore the way his voice curls around me like a warm embrace. “Maybe it’s just what the doctor ordered.”

  He cocks his head to the side, a move that makes him look ten times sexier. He licks his lips, and I notice the bottom one is slightly fuller than the top.

  “Something tells me you aren’t the rebound-sex kind of gal. You don’t see
m like a one-night-stand type of woman.”

  “And you don’t seem like you’d know where to look for a clit, much less find it.”

  The words are out before I can even stop them. There isn’t any other time I can remember being this much of a bitch to a person I just met, but the way he’s been looking at me all night is different than the way he just checked me out, assessed me, and made a declaration like that. It pushes a button inside me, lighting up my inner bitch like a Christmas tree.

  Is he saying that I don’t seem like I’d be good in bed? What does a revenge or rebound sex type of person even look like? Am I supposed to be wearing some kind of pin that lets everyone know? Is there a code word or secret handshake required to be in the one-night stand club? Some kind of initiation I’m unaware of?

  A dark eyebrow raises as he places his hands flat on the bar and leans in, all while remaining significantly less ruffled by my comment than I was by his.

  Bastard.

  “I think we both know that is not true.”

  The sad thing is, I have no doubt that he not only knows where a clit is, but also how to touch, stroke, lick, and do everything to it. And wouldn’t that be the perfect fuck you to Scott? Screaming louder than I ever have before.

  Come to think of it, I don’t recall Scott ever making me scream. Or even moan loudly.

  Ugh! This needs to stop. Why can I not stop thinking about sex with this man? It’s only been a day since I found out my fiancé, who I’d been with for six years, betrayed me, and now, my mind is stuck on this guy and the weird effect he’s having on me.

  It has to be the alcohol. Three shots in rapid succession, followed by a Jack and ginger, might not have been my best choice of action, but how was I supposed to know this tall, dark, and handsome man of mystery was going to walk into my path?

  Ugh, Danielle. Revenge sex can be with anyone. It doesn’t have to be with him.

  But it would probably be the best with this man.

  The muscles in his forearms are perfectly defined under his tanned, tattooed skin. His T-shirt clings to his body as if it was custom-made for his broad shoulders and chest. The bar rag casually thrown over his shoulder just adds to the vibe that screams he’s more than a good time.

  He’d probably chew me up and spit me right out.

  But I bet it would be worth it.

  A deep laugh booms from his chest, pulling me from my wayward thoughts of good times and being scraped up off the ground like roadkill afterward.

  “Maybe you are cut out for revenge sex after all.”

  I shake my head, trying to focus on his words and not his hot body. “Huh?”

  He chuckles. “There’s a chance you could pull off revenge sex after all. I should probably feel objectified with the way you’re staring at me like a drink of water on the hottest day of the year.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” I hitch my shoulder. “Plenty of fish in the city. I’m sure it wouldn’t be hard to find someone and test that theory.”

  His eyes darken, and his fingers flex on the bar. “You’re not going out into the city to find someone to revenge fuck, sweetheart.”

  The way the word “fuck” rolls off his tongue with a whisper of promise has parts of my body fired up that shouldn’t be.

  Men are assholes, Danielle. Don’t forget what happened yesterday just because this tall drink of water is giving you the slightest bit of attention. He wouldn’t even remember your name tomorrow. Hell, he doesn’t even know your name now.

  I don’t even think I was ever really serious about the revenge-sex thing. Now, it’s the only thing on my mind.

  “Why? You offering?”

  His eyes never leave mine as his jaw clenches. “Drunk women aren’t my thing, and there’s no way I’m letting you leave here to go troll for cock while you’re not in the best frame of mind.”

  “That’s cute.” I snicker. All his cockiness regarding what I can and can’t do or who I am and who I’m not annoys me. I open my bag and dig out my debit card. “Except I’m not drunk. And you don’t get to tell me what to do when I walk out that door. I can jump into bed with the first man I see on the sidewalk, and there’s nothing you can say about it. There’s nothing anyone can say about it. I’m a free woman.”

  His whole alpha-attitude thing pisses me off. I can do whatever the hell I want. Scott does. Mandy does. So, I can, too, damn it.

  I slap my card down on the bar and glare back, meeting his stare that hasn’t left me. “I can go get my revenge with a dozen different men—at the same time if I want—and there’s no one who can stop me. Actually, that sounds like the best idea I’ve ever had. Sample everything the city has to offer.”

  He growls—literally growls at me—as he looks down at my card and slides it back to me. “I sure as hell can say a damn thing, Danielle. I can object to you finding some chump to help you get back at your fiancé when no one out there can make you feel like I can. But I won’t touch you while you’re drunk. So, if you want to scream because of my fingers, my tongue, and my cock, I suggest you finish that water by the time I’m done back here.”

  Hmm, so now he does know my name. The sound of it on his lips sends a shiver down my back. My nipples harden under the lace of my bralette. His words ignite every emotion inside me into one … desire.

  I want this sexy barman.

  I want his fingers.

  His tongue.

  His cock.

  I’m supposed to be at home. With my husband.

  But I don’t have a husband.

  Because Scott fucked Mandy.

  I’m single now.

  I should be a blubbering mess while crying into my ice cream and wine. But that doesn’t sound nearly as delicious as this man and what he could do to me.

  My fingers wrap around the water glass, and I bring it to my lips.

  Bottom’s up.

  Chapter Five

  Danielle

  Mr. Sexy stops in front of me and looks down at my now-empty glass of water. “You ready?”

  I slip off the barstool and grab my purse. “Are you ready? is the question.”

  I have no idea where all this inner sass is coming from, but I can’t find it in me to care. I get a free pass today. I have zero doubts that tomorrow will bring about some regrets or at least some legit concerns about my mental stability, but right now, as the left side of this fine man’s lips tip up into a smirk, I couldn’t care less about any of that shit.

  “Oh, sweetheart, you are so in for it.” He tips his head to the side. “Meet me at the end of the bar.”

  His eyes follow my every movement as I walk to the end of the bar while he does the same.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  His eyes drop down from my face to my feet and back up. “Just making sure you are as sober as you claim you are. Plus, I was checking out your lower half since it was hidden under the bar. I just knew you’d have nice, long legs.”

  Something about him ensuring he isn’t taking advantage of a drunk woman makes me feel less crazy for leaving this bar with a man I know nothing about. My mother would have a heart attack if she knew what I was doing.

  “Did I pass your test?”

  “You aced it.”

  I smile. “Well then, lead the way, Mr. Sexy.”

  His laugh is deep and robust as he throws his head back. “Mr. Sexy, huh? I like it.”

  My cheeks heat with my accidental slip. “Well, it isn’t like you gave me your name or anything.”

  He slides his hand into mine, entwining our fingers. “My name is Ryan, but you can call out Mr. Sexy when I make you come.”

  He takes a few steps toward the back exit of the bar, but I squeeze his hand, stopping him. When he looks back over his shoulder, I raise my eyebrow in question.

  “You mean, if you make me come.”

  A fire ignites in his eyes, and it screams of all the promises yet to come. “The sun hasn’t fully set yet, Danielle. I plan on having you coming well into th
e darkness of night.”

  I gulp. I’ll definitely need to be scraped up off the ground when this man is done with me.

  We exit the back door, and Ryan leads me up a flight of stairs behind the bar.

  “You live upstairs?”

  “No,” he answers, digging into the pocket of his jeans. Jeans that hug his very nice ass. “The bar owns the studio above for the employees in case they want to crash here after closing. We don’t close until two, and sometimes, we’re just too beat to head home.”

  “And you’re just going to use it to make me come well into the night?” I ask, pulling my eyes from the view of his ass that is eye-level, thanks to the stairs.

  He winks. “Nobody is going to mind. Just try not to scream too loudly. We don’t want the customers downstairs to complain.”

  “I sincerely hope you can live up to all these promises,” I say as he opens the door to our little love nest for the next couple of hours. “I’ve already been seriously let down this weekend. I wouldn’t want to lose all my faith in men and their ability to tell the truth.”

  “Sweetheart, the only thing that’s going to be let down tonight is your inhibitions.”

  He tugs me into the room and closes the door with my back as he pushes me up against it and takes my mouth. The cool metal of the door is a stark comparison to the firestorm blazing between my legs as Ryan plunders my mouth with his tongue. He devours me as he tastes every inch of my mouth.

  My hands delve into the dark hair slicked back on the top of his head that only he and David Beckham can pull off. He nips my bottom lip as I scrape my fingernails over his scalp. His fingers slip into my hair, and he pulls, tilting my head back as he moves down from my mouth to my neck, kissing, licking, and nibbling.

  I swear, the muscles in my vagina quiver as he sucks my earlobe into his mouth, and his free hand slips under my dress until he reaches my breast and flicks my nipple with his thumb.

  My moan is low and throaty, and I want more.

  Ryan groans, and my dress is up and over my head before I can form a thought that doesn’t involve his mouth on every part of my body.