A Chance On Love (A World Apart Book 1)

by Laura B. Martinez

  Who in their right mind would be on Facebook instead of out?

  But still, I needed a pick me up, so I started to browse through my suggested groups, hoping to find something interesting.

  One caught my eye, it was a closed group, so that made it more appealing. I sent my request to join and after a few minutes I was in. Hell yeah, baby. The threads varied from relationships to BDSM topics, something that I knew little about but since all that “fifty shades of something” boom, I was actually kind of curious and wanted to see what I could learn.

  I'm not going to lie, I like to have control in and outside the bedroom. Hey, I'm Italian, it's in my DNA. But this is also a part of what has allowed me to be where I am. My family's legacy. What started as a little restaurant in our home village on the South of Italy is now a successful franchise around the states that I co-own and manage.

  So yeah, having hundreds of employees on our payroll and a large family nagging at me every chance they get, I needed to be controlling at times, bossy even, as my friends preferred to call me.

  Life has been good to me. Well, business wise that is. Personally though, I was going through a bit of a dry spell. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy a hook up, or two, from time to time, but lately my family keep pushing me to date more, and I end up agreeing just to make them happy. I know they're only trying to help but dating isn't for me. Going from one terrible date to the next, I’m getting tired of it all.

  Some of the girls were boring or didn't have a sense of humor, one of them literally said "let's skip the meal and go straight for dessert," I'm a guy, of course I went straight for it, only to find her planning our wedding the very next morning, after that I had a hard time avoiding her calls. She still leaves me voicemails telling me random stuff and asking me to call her.

  The last date I had was with a beautiful woman, but she was more interested in what I had in my wallet than getting to know me. Completely shallow. So, after politely excusing myself because I had a “work emergency,” I'm now here reading everything there is to know about relationships and, spanking paddles?

  Some of the threads were actually really interesting, I commented on one and suddenly I found myself getting friend and message requests from women.

  "Hello Sir, are you looking for a submissive?" No. Declined.

  "I've been a bad girl... Would you like to spank me?" I laughed at that one. Declined.

  "I want to play. Are you interested in cybersex?" What the? No, thanks. Declined. Declined. Declined.

  Thinking I'd made a mistake I was about to leave the group when I saw a comment that made me laugh. And then another and another. This girl was hilarious and soon I was stalking every thread that she was commenting on. From what she wrote, she wasn't into this stuff but she was curious, her funny and kind of smartass remarks were what drew me to her and I ended up replying to her comments. It was almost three a.m. when I decided to call it a night and went to bed with a huge grin on my face.

  After that day, it became my routine to log in and check my notifications through the day, always making sure not to miss one of Kaitlyn's posts. I enjoy fucking with her and she gives as good as she gets. I tried to find a little bit about her but her Facebook page is private, allowing me only to see some of her public posts that weren't much help. I wonder why she didn't send me a friend request or a private message, I mean, lots of the girls in the group did but not her. That piqued my interest even more, I wanted to get to know what kind of girl she was.

  Scrolling through the messages, I saw that Kaitlyn was engaged in a conversation about anal sex. It wasn't anything dirty, she just said she's never trusted a guy enough to let him near her backdoor, but fuck me if that didn't turn me on. I decided to reply to her comment.

  It has been a long and stressful day at work, it's nearly nine p.m. and I’m still at my office drowning in paperwork when I get a text. Unlocking the screen, I see it’s one of my best friend's, Ryder.

  Ryder: Hey man, how's it hanging?

  Me: It's pointing straight up, how about yours?

  Ryder: Long, loose and full of juice. I'm in town, wanna grab a beer?

  Me: Sounds good man, I'm finishing up some work, give me an hour and I'll meet you at our usual.

  Ryder: Great. But if you don't show up, I'm bringing the party to your door, old man.

  Ryder's threats are not to be taken lightly. Last time he was in town I got caught up in a meeting and he showed up at the restaurant with quite an entourage. With more than fifty people I had to close for the night. Between bodyguards, escorts and people he later confessed he didn't even know, I feared that I was going to end up with a trashed restaurant, “Rockstar style.”

  You see, he's a hotshot actor. I met him at the grand opening of my restaurant here in L.A. almost two years ago. He just landed his first leading role in an action film and chose my restaurant to celebrate. I was grateful people actually showed up for the opening, being unknown, I was afraid nobody would give my restaurant a chance. After that night both our lives changed completely. My restaurant was a complete success and he became one of Hollywood's favorite actors. I like to think that we're each other’s lucky charms.

  Deciding to call it a day, I rush home to take a quick shower and get ready. I request an Uber, thinking it might be best not to drive, Ryder likes to party hard and I'm not about to say no to that, I need to let off some steam. While waiting for my car to arrive, curiosity gets the best of me and I log onto my Facebook, I notice Kaitlyn isn’t online, so I skim through my notifications and log off just as the Uber pulls up in front of my house.

  Entering Q's, our favorite tavern, I search the crowd until I spot Ryder. He’s leaning on the bar talking to a blonde girl, when he sees me approaching he whispers something in her ear and meets me halfway.

  "Hey man, it's good to see you," he says, as we exchange back pats.

  "It's great to see you too, man. Who's the blonde?" I ask, raising my brow.

  "A fan, you know how it is, they always find me," he grins, pointing at the empty pool table on the far end. "Are you ready to lose?"

  We both enjoy shooting some pool. Q's offers a great atmosphere with great food, beers and games. We keep vigilant watch of the score which is currently even. The two of us are extremely competitive and hate seeing the other one get one up.

  "Give it all you’ve got, hotshot," I taunt him as we make our way to the table.

  After our third game and fourth round of beers, I feel slightly buzzed and after we catch up on each other’s work news, Ryder decides to invite the blonde and her friends over to play. They play like shit, but I welcome the female distraction, especially since I feel the itch to take out my cell phone and check if Kaitlyn is online every two minutes.

  Asking for her picture wasn't the smartest thing to do, now I can’t get her out of my mind. Her eyes bewitched me.

  I need to stop thinking of her so I decide to teach one of the blonde's friends, a short blonde that reminds me of Tinkerbell, how to shoot.

  Tink, who’s name I didn’t catch, is actually good at pool, she’s nice and she seems genuinely interested in learning how to play instead of trying to dry hump Ryder, like the rest of them. Her long hair is in my way, so I subtly brush it back, giving my mind the perfect opportunity to wonder if it feels as soft as I imagine Kaitlyn's would be. She turns, throwing me a knowing smile and I smile back, bemused until she bends over the table to try and take a shot.

  My cock goes rock hard as images of me taking Kaitlyn doggy style invade my mind. Shit, I need to take a break or I’ll end up fucking this girl over the pool table.

  Excusing myself, I rush toward the bathroom. Finding it empty I go straight to the sink, open the tap and splash some water over my face. Closing my eyes, I place both hands on either side of the sink and try to cool off. That idea goes to shit when images of Kaitlyn keep assaulting me. I wonder if she likes it a little rough. Fuck, me. My cock twitches as I imagine her spread out over the pool table, waiting for me to
eat her out.

  My cock is so hard, it’s borderline painful. I have to get outta here. I send a quick text to Ryder telling him I have an emergency I need to take care of. Hey, don’t look at me like that, it’s not a complete lie. Exit Q’s and flash a cab. As soon as I’m home, I go straight to my bedroom, get rid of my shirt and as I hit my bed, I let my cock free from my pants. Holding it tightly in my fist, I close my eyes and see Kaitlyn's face, I start to stroke up and down slowly, picturing her bending over the pool table. I use my thumb to spread the drop of pre-come around the tip. I stroke faster as I imagine myself entering her wet pussy from behind and a hand playing with her clit. As she comes she begs me to fuck her virgin ass. It’s too much, I fist the sheet with my hand as I stroke faster and harder, it doesn’t take much just a few more strokes and I’m coming, groaning loudly.

  As I clean up guilt starts to take over. I just jerked off imagining a girl I barely know.

  Fuck, I need to get laid, pronto.

  I need pussy, any pussy to erase these thoughts from my mind. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to since I just had one of the best orgasms I’ve had in weeks, from my own hand and thoughts of her. But something needs to be done because one thing’s for sure, after seeing Kaitlyn’s picture I know she’s going to be trouble.

  Chapter 3

  Kaitlyn

  For the next two days, I decide to ban myself off Facebook. I barely manage; I feel like I’ve lost a vital extremity. I resist checking my personal messages. I even ask Brooke to text me instead of PM-ing.

  Going cold turkey for days has my fingers twitching to click and scroll, but it’s my curiosity that is really killing me. I like to know what’s going on, I draw inspiration from life and observing others, so not going on the only thing I use to do my people-ing is hard. It has nothing to do with Leo DeLuca whatsoever.

  I’m so deep in thought I jump when my phone pings on the table.

  Brooke: Did you do it yet?

  Me: Do what?

  Brooke: Did you end your dry spell?

  I spit my water all over myself as I read her text, she really has no filter.

  Brooke: I meant on the Facebook front. I know exactly where your mind went.

  Me: No, still cold turkey. Why? Do you think I’ve waited long enough?

  I cringe at the eagerness oozing from just a few words. I am feeling desperate, to see if he has missed my presence, to see if he’s PM’d me, to see if there is any news or pictures. Okay, I may need a little help. My phone beeps again.

  Brooke: I was going to ask how you’re coping but…

  Me: Yeah, sorry. In all honesty, I feel like I have cabin fever. I never thought I’d say it but I miss people.

  Brooke:You miss people or just one in particular?

  She is too fuckin observant. Okay, so I admit it I went on a Facebook hiatus. I was turning into a real stalker. The good kind, not the one who wants to cut off your face and wear it. More like there wasn’t a minute that went past, where I wasn’t checking his profile, or looking for him in groups. It got so bad I annoyed the shite outta myself.

  Me: Both?

  Brooke: The fact that you added a question mark tells me all I need to know. Just PM him and let him pop your cherry.

  Me: Cherry? I lost that a while ago.

  Brooke: It’s been so long you’re practically a born again virgin.

  Me: Where the feck do you get this shite? Gerry?

  Brooke: No, my name is Brooke. We’ve been over this.

  Me: You know how I feel about men and relationships.

  Brooke: I know, but you have to take the plunge at some point.

  Me: I do not. I’m happy the way I am.

  Brooke: Okay, you keep telling yourself that. By the way, I think you have an admirer on Facebook.

  Before it even registers I have the Facebook app open and I’m scrolling through my notifications searching for his name. When I get past all the tags and likes I see it, there are at least fifteen notifications all from Leo DeLuca liking my pictures and even commenting on a few.

  Clicking the first comment, it’s on a picture taken in France while on holiday with my parents and Brianna, I was in my late teens, maybe nineteen? Brianna was sixteen at the time. While I smile brightly holding up my lucky find, a signed copy from one of my favourite authors. Brianna looks bored absently filing her nails, a scowl on her face. I remember she was miffed off because I took too long looking through old books. We never really got along, which was sad because I remember when she was little I used to play with her and dress her up. I was so happy to have a baby sister, but as she got older she acted out whenever I got any attention, she was jealous of me. She played the rich girl to a T, people were beneath her, even me, her own sister.

  Leo DeLuca: I see looks run in the family. Beautiful pic.

  I smile clicking the next comment, it’s on one of my more recent profile pictures, I was messing around taking selfies and sent this one to Brooke she said it should be my profile pic. I hadn’t long gotten out of the shower my hair is still slightly damp and is wavy, Brooke calls it the beach look. I was doing the dreaded pout, just for fun. My pale green eyes shine like polished jade.

  Leo DeLuca: Not the pout…I thought you were different.

  I laugh and click reply. I pause, contemplating what to say.

  Kaitlyn O’Roarke: I like to keep people on their toes.

  I pause smiling as I see the amount of comments on the latest snippet I posted from my novel, I write for work but I also write as a hobby. I write horror, I like the darker side of life having experienced some of it, I like to pretend the people who hurt me are the characters. Though, I’ve not decided if I will publish it yet, it’s scary, putting a piece of yourself out there for people to dissect.

  I have two possible titles, Greystone or Lies Buried. I’m not sure which I like better, Brooke’s no help and I don’t want to put it out there yet. My phone vibrates distracting me, I smile when I see a private message from Leo.

  Leo: You’re back. I thought you were avoiding me there for a minute, but your friend assured me you were not and you were just busy.

  “Brooke,” I groan, banging my head on the back of the sofa.

  Kaitlyn: Hey, sorry. I’ve been so busy trying to fix my laptop and making a deadline at the magazine.

  Leo: What do you write?

  Kaitlyn: I write soppy shite for my local magazine…So not me.

  Leo: Wow, I thought all woman loved romance.

  Kaitlyn: Never been shown romance. I don’t believe it exists, not for me.

  I don’t add the “not anymore” that runs through my head, no sense in spoiling the conversation with the past.

  We message back and forth for ages, time flies. I find myself laughing and blushing at some of his messages, I could easily become addicted to him.

  I wake with my face planted firmly on my laptop with notes scattered everywhere, there is ink on my fingers and drool on my cheek. I’m a hot mess, if Leo saw me now. Sighing I peel my cheek off the keys and run my hands through my hair, an array of auburn waves fall across my shoulders and down my back. I love my hair more than any other part of me, it’s my crowning jewel, it complements my eyes perfectly.

  I can’t remember the last time I didn’t wake up with my face planted on my laptop. I’m just glad I got it working so I could finish my article, I even knocked out a full chapter in my book. It was a sticky ending for Ashley, she really should have learnt not to trust men.

  I stretch out my back groaning as my spine cracks, I really need to stop falling asleep like this. My phone vibrates, it’s a reminder of what I need to do today.

  The list is long, it’s already making me feel tired. I really don’t want to adult today, I want to grab lots of snacks and barricade myself in my bedroom and write. Unfortunately, I have to do a food shop, I’m out of my favourite snacks and really need some more cereal. As my number one food group I am shocked and disgusted that I’ve run out. I need to take a
long hard look at my priorities.

  Going about my morning routine I wash my face, brush my teeth, and shove my hair in a messy bun on the top of my head. A supermodel I am not, but lucky for me I don’t live to impress anyone. Not anymore.

  Looking in the mirror I smile, I’m proud of my new ‘I don’t give a shite what anyone thinks of me’ attitude. As the store is just a couple of streets away I stay in my trackies and my Star Trek t-shirt. To other people it looks old and worn, to me it’s well loved and vintage.

  Grabbing my keys, I head out. I slide a loving hand over my Ford KA, petting him lovingly. This baby is the only thing that has been loyal to me, aside from Brooke of course. Zeus groans and comes to life. Patting the wheel, I pull out carefully, my viewing range is limited due to my knob of a neighbour who has parked his monstrosity right behind my little Zeus. If my baby gets damaged I will kick him in his pompous balls.

  The sound of wheels screeching has me stomping on my brakes so hard I feel the fatigued metal grind. I really need to have that seen to.

  I beep angrily and pull away, I can see the other driver waving angrily at me so I flip him off and indicate before taking the next left.

  I reach Tesco and park quickly, I love shopping early or late at night when there aren’t many people around. If the car park is any indication there are only a few people up and about this morning.

  Grabbing a trolley, I stand on the back of it and glide through the door. I know it’s lazy and childish but I never claimed to be a grown up and I really didn’t want to adult today.

  I grab two multipacks of Walker’s crisps and drop them in my trolley, before pushing off again. I also grab chocolates, biscuits, pasta, bolognaise sauce and minced meat. I roll down the sweetie aisle perusing all the different types of sweet treats.

  I don’t even see her until she is screeching like a banshee, I feel like my eardrum just popped. Covering my ears, I step off the trolley ready to apologize. When I look up the apology dies on my tongue leaving behind a nasty bitter taste. I can’t believe it’s him, them.