So sweet and soft.
Apologetic.
Just hearing how nice she seemed pisses me off. Her ex sounds like an asshole to let someone like her go. Hell, I’ve barely been talking to her for two days and I can already tell she’s interesting, quirky, and cute. And I’m dying to know her better.
I pop my eyes open and force myself to read her response.
Buttercup: You called me!
Buttercup: OMG.
Buttercup: I like your voice too.
Buttercup: You don’t have to feel bad about calling me. I just couldn’t take your call at work.
Buttercup: Are you hiding from me now?
Buttercup: COME BACK!
Buttercup: OMG that sounded so desperate. I was being playful. OMG texting doesn’t show jokes very well. Crap!
Buttercup: I’m serious though. Why’d you leave? Your voice sounds a;sldjfa;ksf
Buttercup: FUCKIN’ HOT! I’D RIDE THAT MOUTH ALL THE WAY INTO TOMORROW!
I snort at that response.
Buttercup: OMG!!!! That bitch stole my phone! I didn’t type that! Kill me now.
And then no more texts. But I’m smiling rather than scowling now. My dick is also hard and in my hand. Jesus, what is this stranger doing to me?
Me: Send me a picture so I know you’re a woman. Please.
My fist goes up and down around my rigid cock. I close my eyes, wondering what she looks like. While I can’t figure her face out, I imagine her being kind of shy. A cute smile that she hides sometimes. Her cheeks turning pink when I whisper naughty things into her ear.
The phone buzzes and my eyes bug at the response.
Buttercup:
I swipe it open to look at the picture. As soon as I see it, I start laughing so hard. She took a picture of her hand. A thumbs up. It’s so fucking corny, but I can’t stop chuckling. I scan the picture for clues and I can tell she’s at the bank now. Zooming in, I smile when I see the bank name on a pen.
We bank at the same place. Small world. At least I know she lives in town.
Me: That’s a sexy thumbs up. You don’t want to see my thumbs up right now.
I smirk knowing my thumb is around my aching cock.
Buttercup: Show me.
My eyes close as I fist myself harder. I’d love nothing more than to show her what I’m doing. All it would take was one picture. But I’m not a freak. Well, she doesn’t know that at least.
I reopen my eyes and respond.
Me: My hand is a little busy. ;)
While I wait for her to respond, I stroke my cock as I stare at her delicate hand. A dainty bracelet hangs from her thin wrist and her thumbnail is painted navy blue. One side has chipped off. Her hand would barely wrap around my dick, and that thought has me grunting out my release all over my belly.
Buttercup: You ARE doing nasty things with my picture.
I grin as I clean myself up with my towel.
Me: Define nasty…
Buttercup: Did you…OMG how do I say this without sounding stupid? Whack off?
Snorting, I sit up and locate a pair of sweatpants. I slide them on without underwear and lie back down on the bed.
Me: Men aren’t as strong as women. They see something beautiful that turns them on and they take action.
The three dots on her end move as she types.
Buttercup: You’re so bold, Ram. I would never do something like that.
I frown and run my fingers through my wet hair.
Me: You’re hiding behind a screen. I don’t know you. You don’t know me. It’s easy to feel brave that way. Maybe next time you’ll send me more than your hand…
She responds immediately.
Buttercup: Maybe next time you’ll send more than your T-shirt.
At this, I laugh.
Me: So someone IS a lot braver behind text. And fine. Don’t say I never gave you anything.
I take a selfie of my chest, making sure to crop out my face again. When I look at the picture, you can see part of my mouth that’s quirked up into a half smirk. I decide I’ll give her that too. I hit send before I change my mind.
She doesn’t respond, and I’m distracted when my brother knocks on my door. I didn’t realize it was after five already.
“Come in,” I holler.
He pushes through the door wearing a tired expression. Tucker Advertising has been sucking the life out of him for so long. I wish he’d just leave that fucking place already. When I’d gotten canned, I’d half expected him to follow not far behind. He didn’t, and I’m a little frustrated that he chose his career over his own blood.
“Let’s go out tonight. We’ll go bar hopping. I’ve had a rough day and need to get laid,” he grunts out as he loosens his tie. His eyes roam over me and then flit to my desk. “Did Inigo respond?”
I shrug my shoulders and rest my phone on my toned stomach. “Not yet. I did like you said, though, and messaged several old Tucker clients. I’m hoping someone will bite.”
He nods his approval. “Good work. Did your business cards come in? You should be spending your days out doing cold calls.”
“Okay, Dad.”
We both wince at my response, but my brother changes the subject quickly.
“Old man Tucker is thinking of selling. At least that’s what I heard through the grapevine. I don’t like the idea of my job being in limbo,” he utters and gives me a solemn stare. “I need this job.”
I roll out of bed and saunter over to the closet in search of something to wear. Given that Roman is still wearing his suit means we’ll hit up some of the fancier bars he likes to go to. I rummage around in my closet until I find a button-up shirt that doesn’t need ironing. It’s black and looks nice enough. I’m not wearing a tie, nor am I wearing slacks. This is the best he’ll get from me. “Why do you need that job so bad? You’re good at what you do. Any ad firm would be lucky to have you.”
As I dress, he sits at my desk and messes around on my computer with his back to me.
“I’ve been planning to leave for months now,” he says, his voice low. The sting at him choosing them over me doesn’t hurt so much knowing he’s been thinking about it. “I just wanted to have all my ducks in a row before I leapt into something…” he trails off and clicks through the designs I’ve been working on. “Something more enjoyable. These are good designs, by the way. You haven’t lost your touch.”
“Thanks.” I button up my shirt on the way to the bathroom. It takes a few minutes to style my hair in the just-fucked way that will hopefully get me laid. Although, I’d rather just have Carrie. I’m fucking attracted to her hand for crying out loud.
When I come back out, Roman is standing, a pensive look making his brows furrow together. I smirk because when Roman thinks with that look on his face, he gets shit done. I’m just wondering what world he’s going to conquer next.
“You ready?”
I can’t help but smile. Maybe if we hit enough bars, I’ll eventually find the one Carrie works at.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
It’s been three hours and she still hasn’t responded. I know my chest looked good in that picture so she can’t think I’m gross. That much I know for sure. So I wonder what has her ignoring my last text. I’m nursing my Jack and Coke, but Roman’s knocking them back like the supply will be gone tomorrow and tonight’s his last chance to have them. With each drink, he gets more playful and grabby with the servers. It’s times like these he reminds me of the brother I had in high school. Before Dad passed away. I can’t help but smile.
“I haven’t seen you fellas around here before,” a sultry voice coos from beside me. Pointy fingernails dig into my flesh through my shirt.
I turn to regard the woman who literally has her claws in me. Older. Maybe forty-ish. Fine lines and wrinkles carefully hidden behind a pound of makeup. Bright blue eyes that have seen better days. A painted red smile on her face. She seems like a lovely woman, but not my type. When I glance down at her red
-painted fingernails that match her lips, I can’t help but think of Carrie’s navy blue thumbnail. It wasn’t a long nail and had been clipped short.
“We don’t make it out this way often,” I agree with a forced smile.
She takes the smile as an invitation and sidles up on the stool beside me. “You should. A handsome guy like yourself should be spreading himself all over this town.” She winks at me, and I suppress a shudder.
“Look…” I start but my phone buzzes in my pocket, distracting me.
Buttercup: Was that really you?
I grin and return her text.
Me: In the flesh.
Buttercup: Har de har har. I like the tribal arrowhead tattoo.
Me: I designed it myself actually.
Her response is immediate.
Buttercup: Wow! That’s so cool! Behind the businessman is an artist?
I cringe at having almost outed myself on a lie. The woman beside me clears her throat to get my attention. When I turn to her, she’s frowning.
“Look, honey,” she says firmly. “If you’re interested, my cost is a grand for the night.”
I blink at her in confusion. “What?”
This time, she’s the one confused. “I thought you wanted sex.”
Boy, do I ever.
Just not with her.
“Not exactly—” I start, but my drunk brother interrupts by slapping a wad full of hundreds on the bar.
“My treat, bro,” he says, smirking at me. His drink sloshes, and I realize he’s fucking plastered.
Growling, I yank the money up and shove it into my pocket for safekeeping.
“Time to go, drunk ass,” I grumble.
The other lady who had been making out with him a little bit ago protests at my pulling him away. I slap some cash onto the bar for our tab and drag my stumbling brother away from those old whores.
“Did you really bring us here so you could pay for sex?” I snap.
He mutters something about me needing sex to help with my creativity. His heavy arm is slung over my shoulder and I all but have to carry him from the bar. As soon as we push through the doors, I lose my grip on him and he crashes into a pair of women, knocking one to the pavement.
“DRUNK ASSHOLE!” The blonde shrieks, hauling off and kicking my brother who’s all but tackled a brunette.
I grunt and pull him from the petite woman. I’m awarded a flash of her white panties as she tries to right her skirt. Watery hazel eyes meet mine as I pull my beast of a brother away from her. The blonde kicks him again, this time on his ass, which makes him bellow in faux pain. I need to get him home. But my eyes are locked on those of the brunette. Her pink lip is jutted out, and if I didn’t have this stupid drunk oaf in my grip, I’d ask her if I could have a nibble of it.
The spell is broken when the blonde once again kicks my brother before helping the brunette to her feet.
“Oh my God,” she shrieks, her hands smoothing out over the other woman’s now messy hair, before handing her back her phone that had been sitting on the pavement. “Dani, are you okay?”
The brunette. Dani. She nods, her gaze never leaving mine as the blonde hauls her away from my blubbering brother.
“That blonde kicked my ass,” he complains, waving his middle finger at her.
I mouth that I’m sorry to the frazzled brunette before turning and half carrying my dumb brother to my car.
“She literally fuckin’ kicked my ass, man,” he bellows. “I’m gonna have bruises and shit.”
My normally composed brother curses like a sailor when he’s tanked. I smirk and ruffle his now imperfect hair. “You deserved it, bro.”
As soon as I load my brother into the passenger seat and buckle him up, I lean against the side of my car and check for any missed texts from Carrie.
Buttercup: I wish I was creativaslfa;lsdkfjsldkjfa
I frown, wondering if her friend stole her phone again. But this time, I don’t receive any suggestive texts. Finally, another one comes through.
Buttercup: OMG what a night. I SO need a drink.
Smirking, I fire off a text.
Me: Well you do work in a bar so that should be easy. Cheers!
The next picture she sends is her same hand I received earlier with the same flecked navy blue polish. Except this time, she’s not giving me a thumbs up. This time she’s holding a glass of red wine.
I close my eyes and imagine the brunette from earlier. Her plump lips pressing against the edge of the glass. I’ve given my stranger fantasy the face of another. Until Carrie sends me a real picture, I won’t feel guilty putting the pretty brunette there as a placeholder.
Me: What I wouldn’t give to be there with you right now…
After sending that text, I climb into the ‘Stang and fire up the engine. It’s going to be hell getting my passed out brother up to the eighth floor of our building. But at least once I finally retire back to my bedroom, I can message Carrie without interruption.
Junk in the Trunk
“FUCKING DRUNK ASSHOLES,” ANDIE MUTTERS while walking into Bender’s.
I look behind me at the glass door, trying to get a glimpse of the two guys we just ran into. Or more like one drunk guy plowed into me while his friend tried hoisting him back up. I strain my neck hoping to catch one last look. The way that guy looked at me. It felt strange. A complete stranger and the way he took me in, caught my breath. I couldn’t even tell him I was all right, forcing myself to nod.
“Dude, what are you looking at?”
I turn back. “Nothing. Just those guys.”
“Yeah, total assholes. Learn to handle your liquor, douchebags.”
I lift my hand to defend the stranger. “I don’t think the other guy was drunk—”
“Who cares! Ew, I hate guys like that.” We walk in, spotting Brett behind the bar, who seems to be enjoying a few laughs with Sylvia, Bender’s longest lasting waitress.
“What’s so funny?” Andie asks, sitting on the stool in front of Brett, myself next to her.
“Oh, look who the cat dragged in.” Brett smiles, dropping two coasters in front of us. “Sylvia over here just had some fun, messing with some random. Told the guy she would give him the night of his life for a thousand bucks.”
Sylvia starts laughing again. “You should have seen his face. Pale as a ghost.” She slaps her thigh, letting out a loud chuckle.
“So what can I get you two ladies tonight? Another tequila bender?”
I cringe at that word. I really, if possible, never want to hear that word ever again. “I would like a glass of wine, please,” I kindly ask. Andie orders a vodka tonic. Brett tends to the bar and, shortly after, is placing a glass of merlot in front of me, a vodka tonic in front of Andie.
“How’s the breakup going?” Brett asks while I snap a pic of my wine.
Shrugging Brett off, I open my text messages and see the last message from him. The photo of his chest. The second I saw it, I threw my phone, almost embarrassed that I saw his bare chest. All those tattoos. His defined abs. I was getting heated in the cheeks just thinking about it. I definitely didn’t expect him to be so… so colorful. But it worked on him. I imagined myself taking my nails and softly scratching down that chest, my curiosity at what was below building. My cheeks turn crimson at the indecent thoughts. I turn to Andie, who is downing her drink. Turning back to my phone, I start to message when Andie startles me, attempting to snatch it from my hand.
“Seriously! Give me that.”
“No!” I say as we wrestle for my phone. I finally win and she gives up.
“Well, Brett,” Andie answers for me, “the breakup is going great. No peep about the cheating fuckhead. And that’s because she is all over Wrong Number’s balls!”
At that I look up from my text. “I am not!”
“Then who did you just text? Certainly not your mom.”
I give her my stink-eye, because I can’t lie. But I want to talk to him. I regret not answering his call, but I panicke
d. When I saw his name come across my screen, I about tossed my phone at a customer’s head like it was on fire. He tried calling me. I was in shock, and confused, then excited and even more curious as to why. But when I saw the notification that I had a voicemail, I had never requested a break so fast in my life. And it may have been the first time in all eternity that I just walked off before even hearing my boss’s response.
And that voice. It was perfect. Deep, masculine. His laugh sending a warm sensation down below. I’d listened to it three times before my boss came back and told me my break was over. I knew it wasn’t, but I also knew it was a busy time of day, so I nodded and went back to work.
Everything about him weighed heavy on my mind all day. And if it was true what he said, that he masturbated to my messages! A small laugh slips from my lips remembering his words—
“Hello! Earth to Dani!” I snap out of it, turning to Andie, who’s staring me down, then to Brett and Sylvia, who both seem to be watching me expectantly.
“What? What did I miss?”
“Well, for starters the whole conversation,” Andie snaps.
“Darlin’, I just asked you why you’re staring at your phone like someone just sent you a pic of a juicy steak?”
“Because she WANTS him to send a pic of his juicy steak!” Andie exclaims. “You should have seen the one he sent earlier. You would think she hadn’t eaten in days the way she drooled over it.”
I smack her in the arm. “I did not,” I lie. Feeling guilty for lying, though, I try to explain. “Okay fine. I may have, but who wouldn’t?! Even you said he was, your words, super-hot, and fuckable.”
Andie shrugs her shoulders, agreeing, and takes a sip of her drink.
Brett raises an eyebrow looking at me curiously. “Wait, wrong number dude sent you a dick pic?”
“NO,” I say, raising my voice, embarrassed. “No, he sent me a picture of his bare chest. A nice chest as a matter of fact.” I take a hefty sip of my wine. This topic is becoming too uncomfortable for me. My phone dings and I look down to find a new message from Ram. I smile at his banter, flying off a response back, but when Brett sticks his hand out, I frown.
“Let me see it.”
Text 2 Lovers Page 4
