“Don’t think about it, Addison. Just complete the damn paperwork and send it in. We’ve got six months to prepare for the fucking hottest night of our lives, and I’m not going to let you weasel your way out of it with that good girl, wholesome crap you do. I know there’s a sex kitten inside you just waiting to sink her claws into a stud muffin.”
“I’ll think about it,” I chortled. Oh, how it felt good to laugh.
“Don’t think. Just do.”
“I’ll think about it,” I reiterated, tossing the envelope on top of my book.
Amber stood up and started toward the door. “I’ll get you to go somehow, and it will be the most amazing night of your life. You’ll see.”
“If you say so.” I barely had the last syllable out before she disappeared from my house. With her gone, I could get back to my fun of Jackson and Gwyn. I reached for my book but picked up the envelope instead. My heart pounded, my breathing shallowed. What was the harm in completing the application? It didn’t mean I had to go.
Excited about my new prospect, I darted upstairs to my office where I spent the rest of the evening blushing and filling in a questionnaire for what could be the most amazing night of my life.
Chapter One
I gnawed on the end of my pen. Bored, my mind wandered everywhere but where it should’ve been, which was in the middle of a blasted conference call. As the youngest VP for one of the nation’s largest banks, it was a major ordeal that upper management recognized the success of my division. As a reward, they were adding five new locations to my portfolio. Some reward—give me more work to do. Not that I was complaining. Job stability and all.
But instead of paying attention to the earnings report for each of my new branches, my mind drifted far, far away. It was New Year’s Eve, and I was stuck behind my desk. The only thing worse than working on a ‘holiday’ was working on two. I’d worked Christmas Eve, as well. Call me a workaholic, but I loved my job, and it kept my mind busy.
I glanced down at my cell phone; my whole body a bundle of nerves. Only an hour ago, I’d received a text message from Jacoby that left me puzzled and anxious. I swiped my fingers across the cool, glass screen. At the same time the screen burst to life, my heart thundered in my chest. As I tapped the messaging app, I slid my tongue over my dry lips. It’d been a year—a very long, hard year—but I managed to get over him. Accepting that Jacoby and I were only ever meant to be friends was the hardest thing I’d probably ever have to do; yet somehow I’d done it. But his text message appeared and I was thrown for a freaking loop.
Jacoby Cross: Hey, Red. We still on for yoga today? The weather’s getting pretty crappy.
Red. He hadn’t called me that since…
I squeezed my eyes shut and pushed back the cherished memory. The first time Jacoby called me Red was after our first kiss. I’d never forget the look in his eyes as he held my face in his hands. That kiss surprised us both, yet it felt so right. The way his hands slipped into my hair as he kissed me sent waves of emotion coursing through me. Even before we got together, he’d always loved my long, red hair. After that kiss, he told me that my hair was the color of love, which was fitting since I was the epitome of love.
My heart stopped. Air caught in my throat. That one memory echoed through my mind, giving me both a euphoric high and a depressing low. I opened my eyes and shook my head, as if to erase the pain and pleasure from my memory. I swallowed hard and read further.
Jacoby Cross: I need to talk to you about something really important.
Really important?
The last time he wanted to talk to me about something really important was when he informed me he was gay. I shifted through a thousand possibilities of what could be so important. Since Christmas was already over, I knew it couldn’t be that. This was our first Christmas apart. For most of the festivities with my family, I felt like a bad country song. I was about ready to stab myself with a branch of holly to put myself out of my own misery. Everyone wanted to know how I was holding up, and wanted to tell me how much they hated Jacoby. No matter how many times I expressed that he and I remained friends, they still looked at me with sympathy.
Addison George: Of course I’ll be at yoga. What’s up?
My eyes moved over his next words carefully.
Jacoby Cross: Not by text. I need to talk to you in person, Red.
There was that name again. Goose bumps formed over my skin. I was both excited and frightened by what he could want to talk about. The thought that maybe he wanted to get back together tickled the corner of my mind. My heart whispered that his blatant use of my beloved nickname could possibly be a result of him having a change of heart. My brain, on the other hand, scoffed at my heart for being naive.
I closed the app and flopped back in my chair, releasing an exasperated breath. Pushing my fingers through my hair, I rested my hands at the back of my head and stared up at the ceiling. My brow furrowed as I contemplated the urgency of his message.
Was my heart really being naive? I hadn’t seen or spoken to Jacoby in over two weeks due to the holidays. A lot could happen in that timeframe.
Ugh! What was I thinking? You can’t turn being gay off and on like a light bulb. It’s a part of who you are, just like being straight. Besides, Jacoby and Eddie were happy. Even I had to admit they made the perfect couple. And that’s saying a lot since I was the one who got dumped in order for this perfect couple to emerge. My brain was right. I was being foolish. Jacoby probably wanted to talk to me about my dating situation, or lack thereof. That was all he and Amber seemed to care about lately, anyway.
Since our breakup, I’d done what was expected of me. I drowned myself in booze, cigarettes, rocky road ice cream, and depressing light rock. After I spent months wallowing in my own self-pity, I dusted myself off and rejoined all the other single women in the ranks of dating.
At first it was fun, but after awhile it wasn’t. I quickly discovered there were three types of men my age in the dating scene. One I had experience with—the absolutely fabulous gay guy. Then there was the perfect in every way guy, but the moment I showed any real independence, they tucked tail and ran. You’d think they’d want an equal partner, but no. They only wanted arm candy. Bastards.
But the worst of them all were the sorry losers who only wanted me to be their sugar mama. They’d start out as great guys, but once they discovered that I was successful and had made my own small fortune, they would stop being perfect gentlemen. Before long, I was paying for everything. I might be over thirty, but there was no way I was funding some deadbeat’s lifestyle.
One guy actually had the audacity to ask me to pay his bills for him even though we’d only been dating for a month. After laughing hysterically in his face, I showed him the door and told him to lose my number. I do believe I included a tidbit about the fact if I were to pay for anything, it would be to get him a penis enlargement.
Penises.
Dicks.
Sex.
Jacoby pounding me hard and fast against the wall, to the point I was digging my nails into his back, screaming for my release.
Dammit!
To add insult to injury, I was horny as hell. It’d been quite some time since I’d dated one of my series of losers, and Peppy—yes, I named my vibrator—just wasn’t hackin’ it anymore. There’s only so much a long, plastic dong that gyrates can do for a girl. After a while, a woman needs to feel the warmth of a man hovering over her, buried deep inside her, causing stars to explode before her eyes.
It goes without reason as to why my two friends would worry about me, I guess. It had been a year, and here I was imagining Jacoby fucking me senseless.
I blinked my eyes a few times, sighed, and leaned forward, resting my elbows on my desk. My boss droned on and on about profit projections and loss forecasts. I heard him, but I wasn’t paying attention. All I could think was, there’s no way that Jacoby could want to talk about us getting back together.
He’s gay! I reminded myself.<
br />
Or was he? Maybe his venture out of the closet was nothing more than a phase, like how college girls have lesbian experiences. I chuckled at the silly thought. That was nothing more than a fool’s dream.
I growled and dropped my head into my hands. This was so frustrating. Four o’clock couldn’t get here fast enough.
But what if he did want to get back together? I was in a good place in my life. Sure, I was a bit celibate at the moment, but everything was on track.
“Addison? Addison, are you still there?”
The sound of my name pulled me from the recesses of my imagination. I looked down at the speaker with what I assumed was a great rendition of a deer in the headlights look. It was a good thing that he couldn’t see me. “Uh, um, yes, sir. I’m here.”
“Oh, good. I thought I’d lost you. Do you have any questions?” Mr. Buck asked.
I glanced at the doodles of oversized penises on my legal pad and shook my head as if the man on the other end of the phone line could actually see me. Thank God he couldn’t.
“No, sir,” I answered, a note of hesitation in my voice. “I think I’ve got everything I need.”
“Fantastic. I look forward to seeing your progress.”
“Thank you, sir,” I responded, drawing spurts of cum shooting from a rather large, veiny dick head.
Not long after that the call ended, and once again, I was left alone in my office, lost in my thoughts. It was pointless. I wasn’t going to get any work done, and yet I still had over an hour to go before I could leave to meet Jacoby.
Since I had nothing better to do, or at least that’s what I told myself, I grabbed my cell phone and swiped the screen to bring it back to life. My finger hovered over the messaging app for a moment, but I forewent the torture of reading that thread of texts any further. Instead, I clicked on the internet browser app I’d minimized when those gut wrenching texts began.
The image of Sebastian Hawk exploded across my screen. “Well, hello there,” I cooed at the phone, feeling heat rise under my skin. I shifted in my chair and got comfortable.
No! Not that comfortable! I might need to get laid, but I wasn’t desperate enough to double click my mouse at work. Although, Sebastian was definitely masturbation material, and Peppy enjoyed a round or two thanks to that man.
In the picture, Sebastian raked his longs fingers through his pale, blond hair. His bangs fell with a careless wisp over his brow. Seafoam blue eyes sparkled with mischief, and a seductive smile quirked his sensual lips. A slate gray suit sheathed his broad shoulders, leaving everything to the imagination, but making it impossible not to drool. While this man’s demeanor oozed with sex appeal, there was more to him than his dashing, good looks or his eloquent words. Don’t ask me how I knew this, because every answer he gave in the interview that accompanied the photos was very much scripted, but somehow I could feel it.
Scanning the article, I realized nearly every question was about Indulgence, the erotic masquerade ball that was supposed to happen tonight. Sadness gripped my chest as I thought about how I’d completed that packet Amber’d given me all those months back, but never had the balls to send it in.
As promised, Amber harped at me to mail the paperwork. Her arguments were rather persuasive, and several times I was almost convinced to give in. I really had nothing to lose. I wasn’t in a serious relationship. Masks were required, so no faces were ever seen. We weren’t even required to give real names if we didn’t want to. As long as the contract holder had our pseudo name, we could be anyone we wanted to be for the night. Yet, no matter how much I tried to convince myself to go, I just couldn’t. My instinct refused to get past how Eyes Wide Shut this thing felt. When I explained that notion to Amber, she merely laughed. But I was serious. I didn’t want a bunch of rich fucks pawing all over me.
It didn’t matter, though. The deadline came and went, and I never submitted my paperwork. Not for lack of curiosity, but why would I go if I couldn’t meet Sebastian? It felt trivial to me, because he was the only person I was keen on screwing at such an extravagant event. Since the party was tonight, it was pointless to even think about it further. I could still dream about fucking Sebastian, though.
The corner of my mouth twitched as my fantasy morphed from Jacoby fucking me against the wall to Sebastian taking me over my desk.
“I bet you don’t need a penis enlargement, do ya?” I purred to my phone screen. Hoping to prove myself right, I glanced down at his crotch, only to be thwarted by his suit jacket.
I didn’t allow that to stop me. My imagination gave him a sizable dick made just for fucking me.
For the next hour, I remained lost in my daydreams. Jacoby fucking me. Sebastian fucking me. Jacoby and Sebastian fucking me together. Hey, Jacoby was gay. It was the perfect scenario for me. While my heart told me that none of these events would ever come true, my brain laughed because that was the fun of fantasy. It was merely that. A fantasy.
When it was time to leave, I changed into my workout clothes, thankful that I packed my cute yoga gear for today, even though they were not suitable for the current icy conditions. Wearing something sexy always made me feel empowered.
And though my brain still screamed for me not to be stupid, my heart was determined that even the slightest chance that Jacoby wanted me back was worth the potential heartache. With my mind and heart at war, I set out for my rendezvous with destiny.
Chapter Two
Flustered, I pulled into the practically empty parking lot of Sunstone Yoga Studio. A few cars were lined up in front of the building, all poised for a quick escape once class was over. Amongst them was Jacoby’s Honda CRV, parked next to a sleek looking Porsche. It wasn’t uncommon to see a high-end car in this neighborhood, but what wasn’t expected was for that car to belong to a yoga instructor.
Brix Johnson was unlike anybody I’d ever met. It must have been from his Zen training, but he was the calmest person to be around. On top of that, he was drop-dead gorgeous. Women and men alike drove for miles just to watch him bend and stretch. Yet I could never figure out how he was able to afford such an expensive car on an instructor’s salary.
With a heavy sigh, I parked my Mercedes GLK350 on the opposite side of Brix’s car and grumbled as I grabbed my yoga mat from the back seat. I’d had full intentions of arriving a little early so there would be enough time to talk to Jacoby, but thanks to heavy traffic—fucking idiots can’t drive on the freeway when there’s a little precipitation on the ground—I was barely on time.
I quickly checked my makeup in the mirror before jumping out of the car and making a mad dash for the door. The bitter December wind cut straight through my nylon yoga suit, and even in such a short distance, my arms and legs burned from the icy chill. Shivering from head to toe, I threw open the glass door and stepped inside. A blast of heat and the smell of pine scented incense welcomed me into the warm building.
Very festive, I mused with a chuckle.
A gust of wind slammed the door closed behind me, smacking me in the butt. “Umph!”
I jerked my head around, glaring at the inappropriate door. How dare the door slap my bottom! I might have a nice ass, but that didn’t give it the right to be impudent. “Cheeky,” I scolded it, rubbing my ass.
“Addison!” a familiar voice called out.
Abandoning the door, I turned my head and smiled at the sight of Jacoby standing mere feet away. Dressed in his orange and black yoga gear, his dark brown eyes twinkled in the soft light of the room and his bright smile welcomed me home. Jacoby wasn’t what I would call supermodel gorgeous, like Sebastian or Brix, who happened to be standing next to Jacoby and staring right at me, but he had that boy-next-door charm about him. Clean cut and sun-kissed skin, even for early December, created a sort of aura about him. He stood a head taller than Brix, and where our yoga instructor was muscular and well defined, Jacoby was lean and toned.
If his students could see him now. I chuckled under my breath. Jacoby was a humanities professor f
or the local community college and was often admired by the girls of his classes. Even in my days at college, it was uncommon to find a young, handsome professor who was friendly and knew how to dress. Jacoby fit that bill to the letter. It didn’t matter that he was gay. He was cute, and most girls couldn’t resist the student/teacher crush.
I, on the other hand, hated the college he worked for. Not that I had anything against the actual college, per se, just the fact it was there that Jacoby met Ralph Eddington. Eddie, as he liked to be called, was the man who would eventually tear my life apart. He was also a professor and the chair over the math and statistics department at the college. It always struck me funny that Jacoby picked a math professor since my job also revolved around numbers.
Jacoby waved me over, his smile growing wider as I approached the two men. A light blush colored Brix’s cheeks, bringing a smile to my face.
Hello, you handsome devil. Come to momma! Better yet, make momma cum!
Hey, a girl was allowed her unlimited fantasies, even if she wanted to rekindle an old flame. What a man doesn’t know about the ongoings of a woman’s mind, won’t hurt him.
I flittered my fingers at them as I made my way over. “Sorry, I’m late,” I apologized upon reaching them.
“You’re not late at all. We’re just about to get started,” Brix replied, his deep baritone voice rumbling all the way to my core. A soft sigh caught in my throat as he cast me a panty-melting smile. Those piercing green eyes and full lips were the icing on the cake, especially since this man was a vision of perfection with his messy, dark brown hair and his chiseled body rippling in all the right places underneath his tight yoga gear. There was only one man who could compare to Brix, no offense to Jacoby, and that was Sebastian Hawk.
It didn’t matter how pretty I thought Brix was, because I was pretty certain he fell into the fabulously gay guys category, which was just my luck. Every time I came to yoga alone, Brix would ask about Jacoby with a sort of flirtatious gleam in his eyes. That, to me, was a big red flag screaming, “I’m gay and interested in your ex!”
Indulgence (Taking Chances #1) Page 2
