Stupid Hearts
Copyright © 2015 Kristen Hope Mazzola
Published by Kristen Hope Mazzola
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Published: Kristen Hope Mazzola 2015:
Cover Design: Kristen Hope Mazzola
Cover Images:
File ID: 50137126 © Luis Louro / Dollar Photo Club
File ID: 70574721 © LoloStock / Dollar Photo Club
Formatting by: Kristen Hope Mazzola
Editing by:
C. Marie [email protected]
Dedication:
To everyone who dares to fall in love, fast or slow, with their whole heart.
Chapter 1.
Well, crap.
Got home from a long ass shoot in Virginia Beach at the ass crack of dawn after a terrible flight full of turbulence and a screaming baby. Made sure Dozer was all settled in, filled up his food and water bowls, fluffed his oversized bed in the living room, and made sure he was happily gnawing on a gigantic rawhide. Finally took a deep breath as I slipped off my favorite dark brown and black ostrich boots.
I slunk into my closet-sized bathroom and started running the water. It looked like Pepto-Bismol had puked all over the damn thing. From the tiles to the bathtub and even the toilet, it was saturated in the awful pink color. The old pipes complained loudly until steaming hot water bellowed from the faucet.
I stripped off my typical black loose fitting V-neck and skintight black skinny jeans, then stood staring at my tired eyes in the mirror. The curls had fallen out of my hair a while ago and the makeup I’d applied at four in the morning was smudged and faded. I looked like a freaking train wreck standing like a Looney Tune in my underwear. I peeled off my black lace bra and matching thong and sank into a much needed scalding hot bath to relax.
After toweling off, throwing my long dark brown locks into a messy dripping bun, and slipping into my pajamas at eleven o’clock in the morning, the only thing left to do was unpack my carry-on bag.
By far my least favorite part of the whole traveling for work thing was living out of a suitcase. Oh, and the never ending laundry once I finally got home.
It continued to be a typical Monday morning until I started to go through the zipped pocket of my suitcase where I normally stowed all of my intimates, including my pink bullet vibrator. What the hell did I find?
Nothing.
All of my favorite thongs were gone. All of my beautiful lace bras that matched those thongs were gone. Devastation set in fast when I realized my favorite vibrator—the one that had been on the road with me for the past three years—was gone.
Well crap!
After three hours of no luck with complaining about the travesty of my stolen intimates to anyone that picked up the phone, I slumped onto the couch to stew in a pissed off channel surfing escapade and mourn the loss of my battery powered o-maker.
My phone buzzed on the light wooden coffee table, next to where my socked feet were resting. The screen displayed an unknown eight-hundred number.
I answered, “This is Jolene.”
An automated voice came on the line. “Hello. It has come to our attention that you were dissatisfied with our customer service regarding luggage handling. Please hold for a customer service operator.”
Fester.
Fester.
Fester.
At that point my blood was boiling and I was ready to bite the head off of this customer service operator.
“Hello. This is Maureen. It appears that you placed a complaint call earlier today. Please confirm your name for me.”
“Jolene Abbott.”
“Thank you, Ms. Abbott. How are you doing today?”
She seemed so sweet. Her vanilla-coated voice cooed into the phone, but I didn’t give a rat’s ass. I seethed, “You want to know how the hell I am doing? I get home from my business trip to find that some pervert that works for y’all in baggage handling gets off on stealing women’s intimates. Now I am left with none of my nice underwear or my favorite vibrator! Yes, I did just say vibrator! And y’all won’t do a damn thing because there isn’t a record of anyone searching my bag. Of course the perv didn’t leave a damn record of his sick little game and of course y’all won’t help me. So I’m sorry, Maureen. I know you’re just doing your job, but I am freaking pissed and y’all either need to reimburse me for the personal property that was stolen from me or just leave me the heck alone.”
There was a brief pause.
Maybe I’d been too harsh?
Finally her sweet voice came back on the line, a little softer this time. “I’m very sorry to hear that ma’am. I can transfer you to my supervisor. He might be able to help you.”
“Fuck this.” Click.
I threw on a Lynyrd Skynyrd shirt and a pair of faded gray skinny jeans, slid my socked feet back into my boots, and applied a light layer of eyeliner and mascara to avoid looking completely dead.
Tossing my phone into my purse, I gave Dozer a few kisses on his egg-shaped head. “Be back in a bit, bud.” His whip-like tail thumped against the plush bed as I walked to the door. Right as I pulled my bag’s strap over my shoulder and opened the front door, he closed his eyes.
Typical.
I shrugged and started to make my way down the ten flights of stairs.
Time to go shopping.
A successful Victoria’s Secret trip was not all that I had planned for this shopping excursion. I hailed a cab, hopped in, and without giving it a second thought, instructed the cabby to take me to “Seventh Avenue South and Charles Street, please.”
“Alright.” He grinned at me in the rearview mirror, eying my pink striped bag and showing off his lack of teeth along with the ones he did have left, which were stained piss yellow and looked to be hanging on by a thread.
Gross.
I slid out of the cab at the end of the block and made my way to The Pleasure Chest. The faded red brick exterior and the light gray awning did not do the sexual wonderland justice.
A bell chimed overhead as I was greeted by a rather large middle-aged woman. She was covered in tattoos and leaning on the front counter, looking bored out of her skull.
“How can I help please you today?”
The greeting made me giggle. “I have come because of a travesty.”
She gasped and came around the counter to help comfort me in my devastated state. “What happened?” She softly put her pudgy hand—which was decorated with a brightly colored cupcake tattoo—onto my shoulder.
“My Iconic Bullet was stolen!”
The woman gasped again, louder this time, and threw her cupcake hand to her chest. “Well let’s find you a new pocket-sized boyfriend.”
I grinned and followed her to the back wall, past the sexy roleplaying costumes, anal plugs, and strap-ons.
“Now, you might like something like this.” She held up a white b
all that looked like it was wearing a weird pink crown.
Nope!
“That is interesting,” I faked, not wanting to hurt her feelings. “What’s it called?”
“This one is the Vibratex Girls Princessa. My girlfriend loves to roll it around on my clit while I’m climaxing.”
Way too much information.
I grabbed a LoveLife Discover from the wall and read its specs: Discover the pleasure of this versatile mini vibe! Made of silicone and USB rechargeable, this sweet little vibrator has seven delicious settings and is perfect for travel or for a not-so-quiet night in.
Pink. Simple. My kind of thing.
“I think this is the one.”
She nodded and within a few minutes I was curbside, trying to hail another taxi to take me home. A cab finally pulled up and right as I was going for the door handle, another hand got there first.
“Excuse me, this is my cab,” I barked, turning to the owner of the rude hand.
I was greeted by stunning ice blue eyes, a strong stubble-covered jawline, and a huge toothy grin.
“Sorry.” His voice was deep and velvety, matching his five thousand dollar suit well. He started to back away from the cab and I panicked. I needed to see more of those eyes so I blurted out, “We could share? I’m heading to the Upper East Side.”
He nodded. “So am I.”
We hopped in and I gave the directions to my overpriced Fifth and Seventy-sixth,apartment that overlooked Central Park.
My cabmate chuckled.
“Was something I said funny to you, sir?” I drawled at him in the most southern belle voice I could muster.
“It’s not every day that a bohemian looking southerner lives in that area of town.”
“Excuse me?”
“Forgive me, but you don’t look like you’d live there.” His finger twirled around my outfit. I saw red.
Who the hell does he think he is?
The cab stopped in front of my building and I got out, slamming the door shut without so much as a backward glance at the asshat I’d had the misfortune of sharing a cab with. Beautiful or not, an asshat is an asshat, and I was not going to take shit from someone like that.
“Miss?”
I heard his velvet-coated voice call from the parked cab and the door shut behind him.
“What?” An exasperated tone escaped me as I turned to meet his stunning eyes and a cruel smile raking across his lips.
“You left this in the cab.”
To my horror, he was holding my new toy in his hand.
All kinds of red prickled my face as I took my vibrator from him. “Thanks,” I choked, gulping the last bit of saliva out of my drying mouth.
“Want to have drinks later?”
I was rather taken aback by his question. “What?”
“I’m only in town a few nights a month and I leave in the morning. I’m free after my next meeting and would love to have some company at the hotel lounge instead of drinking by myself.”
He handed me a business card that read “Seth Roberts, CFO” with an address scribbled on the back. “That’s where I am staying. I’ll be in the lobby around eight. See you there if you’d like.”
He got back in the cab while I stood like an idiot, grasping his card in one hand, my vibrator and lingerie bag in the other.
What a freaking weird day!
Chapter 2.
I am so out of place!
That’s all I could think about while I sat at the fancy hotel’s lounge bar sipping a terrible dirty martini and waiting for him to show up.
It had been a little over a year since we’d shared a cab and curiosity had gotten the better of me once again. I hadn’t even planned on staying in the city this long, let alone having a causal fuck buddy for a few nights every month when our busy work schedules aligned.
Seth: Drinks?
That’s how it always started. Once he was in town and got a little lonely—or more like horny—one word sent me running to him.
Him. Even the thought of his abs and captivating blue eyes was enough to soak my panties and make me want to make every bad decision possible. Add in his husky voice and impeccable style and you had sex on a stick just waiting to be licked and sucked.
I could see him from the corner of my eye. He was watching. Waiting. Playing our little game perfectly.
Sitting at the bar, sipping on my drink, I caught the eye of a man in his mid-twenties across the bar. He looked to have a swimmer’s build and was fairly clean cut.
He’ll do.
I bit my lower lip once, knowing both men were watching. Slowly licked my teeth. Sipped my drink and licked the rim of the delicate glass.
Hook. Line. Sinker.
Swimmer-boy took the bait like a smallmouth hiding under a log on a hot summer’s day. He slowly made his way over to the empty seat next to me.
“This seat taken?” A brogue soaked his words, fucking sexy as could be.
I shook my head no. “All yours, Sir Wallace.” I sipped slowly on my drink, trying not to choke on the bitterness hitting the back of my throat or the cheesiness of my Braveheart reference. He was making me nervous. The way he smiled as he slid into the seat next to me sent my heart racing.
“Sir Wallace, I could get used to that.” He laughed a deep throaty chuckle. “Not from around here are you?” His bright honey eyes raked over my skintight jeans, down to my high-heeled boots, and then up to my tits, which were about to pop out of my tight fitting silver tank top.
“How’d ya guess?” I winked at him, playing with the toothpick that had held my blue cheese stuffed olives.
“Call it a hunch.” He took a swig of his beer and waved the empty bottle to the bartender.
“You have good instincts. I’m Savanna.” My lips turned up at the corners when my watcher tugged at his tightening suit pants.
It’s working.
“And does Sir William go by another name?” I ran my hand over his toned bicep, under his loose fitting cotton shirt.
He cleared his throat. “Finn. It’s nice to meet you Savanna.”
I leaned in closer as the bartender set Finn’s new beer in front of him. “So what brings you stateside, Finn?” His name felt good rolling off my tongue. For the first time in a year another man had lit a fire in my belly. Dang it. I was still here with someone else.
“I’ve been here since college. My sister and me came here to chase the American dream.”
Damn his voice was intoxicating.
I looked over to where my watcher had been, now an empty table. Time to snap out of the Irish love spell Finn had enchanted me with.
A cough came from my other side and I shot a seductive smirk over his way. “Hello?” I cooed as he took a seat next to me. “It must be my lucky day. Two hot men at once.”
He winked at me before looking over to Finn. “Savanna here is taken.” His husky voice thumped with possession and my heart raced a little as his hand caressed slowly up my thigh.
Finn got up and without a word walked back to his seat at the other end of the bar.
“He went quick,” I remarked, pushing a lock of hair behind my ear.
“Savanna, is it?” He licked his lips and bit down hard.
“Yes, sir. I am in town on a visit.”
“Is that so? Well I’m Clayton.” He extended his hand to mine. Once my hand was firmly in his grasp, he pulled me in close to him, wrapping his other arm around the small of my back to scoot my chair close, right in between his legs.
“Nice touch, changing your name, Joey. It’s sexy.” He kissed right under my ear on the nape of my neck.
Chills. Fast electrifying chills coursed throughout my hungry body.
“Wanna get out of here, Clayton?” The new name felt bitter and exciting escaping my mouth as our fingers intertwined.
Tonight is going to be fun.
He helped me off my stool. Even in my six-inch heeled boots, he was still a good five inches taller than me. His face was stubble-ridden from h
is late night work meetings and early mornings at wherever-the-hell-he-worked, but his dark hair was trimmed perfectly into a military style crew cut. I figured him to be an ex-marine, but our relationship never got to details like that. I knew he worked out a lot, had no tattoos, and loved extra dry martinis. That his kiss was enchanting and he fucked like a sex god on steroids. That he lived in some suburb of Boston, but was from Florida originally. That his real name was Seth Roberts. And that’s it.
He knew my first name, how to make me weak at the knees and come within seconds. He knew what building I lived in and that I worked as a freelance photographer.
The casual nature of our relationship made it easy to not get too attached, but I was addicted. He was a drug that I barely got to play with but craved most nights. And right then he was going to be mine.
We started to head out of the bar, passing Finn. “Bye, Will.” I smirked at him as a questioning look crossed his face, making me giggle a little to myself.
He’s a rodeo I’d love to ride.
The martini was starting to get to me; even one and I was a little tipsy. They called people like me two beer queers where I came from, but I didn’t mind being a lightweight.
We walked through the marble lobby, got in the elevator, and attacked.
Seth pressed me up against the mirrored wall, pulling my leg onto his hip. He lightly bit from my collar bone to my chin while I slowly rubbed his growing erection. He growled into my neck, making my clit pulse with need.
“God, it’s been too long.” I huffed into his ear as he reached up my tank top and under my bra, tugging on my nipples just the way I loved it.
The elevator slowed, forcing us to pull away from each other until we were behind the closed door of his suite.
I went right to the bed, slipped off my boots, and stripped down to my bra and panties.
Seth groaned as he watched me slowly undress from the other side of the bed where he was already standing in his birthday suit, stroking his erect member leisurely. “Put your boots back on. Never leave them off, Jolene. Never.”
“Yes, sir.” I did as he asked then got on my knees on the bed, staring right at him. I slowly started to massage my breasts over the lace, playing with my nipples, watching how his dick pulsed in reaction.
Stupid Hearts Page 1
