A Mess of a Man (Cruel & Beautiful #2)(18)
“Where do you think you left them?”
When I turn around, I find her naked from the waist up, dangling her top from her finger. There is no time to react before she’s on me.
“Ben, we are so good together.”
As much as I don’t want Karen, my body reacts remembering what it was like to be inside her. The alcohol flowing in my veins convinces me it wasn’t all bad when we were together. And I haven’t gotten laid in what amounts to a long time for me, which explains why I’m succumbing to her come on.
“Karen—”
Her lips are on mine and her hand grips my cock through my pants. I groan, because that’s all it takes to go from zero to a hard on.
Samantha’s face flashes in my head for a second, which only adds fuel to my sex-starved dick. But I hardly know her and she doesn’t seem like she’s going to let me touch her any time soon. So what the hell? And if I make Karen leave, I’ll be forced to remember how lonely this house feels sometimes. And I don’t want that. I need the distraction. I need to forget if only for this night. The alcohol and Karen win.
I wake the next morning with a warm body at my back and regret sucker punching my gut. Fuck. Why the hell did I do that?
“Hey, you need to go.”
“Huh?” Karen murmurs.
“I’ve got to get to work and you need to leave.”
“But—”
“You came here for a f*ck and you got one. Now it’s time for you to go. And do me a favor – stop texting me. And stop running to my mom and crying on her shoulder. This isn’t her business.”
Her mouth drops. “You—”
I shake my head. “When I get out of the shower, I want you gone.”
My pants are on the floor and I scoop them up. My keys are still inside and I hope like hell she isn’t the crazy type to carry a bar of soap or some modeling clay in her purse to make a mold of them, but I’m not taking any chances.
Thankfully, she takes the hint. She’s gone when I get out, which is good because that whole sexcapade has left a sour taste in my mouth. I should have left Karen a long time ago. Or not gotten involved with her in the first place. And I know better than to mess with Samantha. She’s a good girl, not the kind that needs a f*ckup like me. I should walk away from her and leave her unmolested. But just thinking her name stirs my dick to life as if I hadn’t screwed Karen the night before.
Too bad I don’t own a crystal ball. If I did, I might have skipped the rest of the week, which sucked ass. To top it off, today is a day from f*cking hell. My head throbs migraine style from what I did with Karen. You would think she would have given up by now, but she hasn’t. My phone lights up like lightning strikes from all of her texts. And Dad has been all over my ass, trying to get the Sadler account locked up. I’ve worked like a fiend, not even stopping for lunch. Undoubtedly, that only adds to the cleaving sensation in my head.
Late that night, when I finally get ready to leave the office I recall that the firm has committed to playing in one of those fund-raising golf tournaments on Thursday. Normally, I am all in for these. But the way I’m feeling and my burgeoning workload, I’d rather crawl in a cave and avoid contact with anyone. But that isn’t in the cards. So the next day, I find myself at the golf course, bright and early with my plastic happy smile fastened on my face. Dad loves these things for entertaining and increasing awareness of our firm. I’m normally for it too—except for today.
When I finish registering, I look up and wouldn’t you know it, my eyes land on a perfect set of tanned legs that go on for days. Samantha stands in a pair of white shorts that meet a plain golf shirt with what is probably her company’s logo emblazoned on her chest. What I wouldn’t do to be that logo. Damn, she looks good enough to eat. Thankfully, she hasn’t seen me yet, so like a stalker I watch her work. It isn’t long before a couple of other girls with the same visors on stride over to her. They must be her employees as she shows them something on her clipboard. Moments later, they hop in separate golf carts and drive off, leaving her alone.
There are several things I could do, like go over and talk to her. Instead, I watch as a man approaches her. I know the *. He’s the fly that buzzes around honey when he finds it. This time he’s got the wrong woman. I shake my head as the smooth talking lawyer whose reputation with women is worse than my own moves into her space. I wonder what she would do if I intervened on her behalf and saved her from a guy who would only want to add her to his stats. Shit, what the hell is wrong with me? I have no right to her. So reluctantly, I turn away to grab my golf bag and roughly cram it on the cart.
“Easy with that, dude. What are you trying to do? Wreck your bag or something?” Jeff’s comments break through my angry thoughts.
I let go of it and glance up.
“I don’t know. Guess I’m not really into this today.” My eyes betray me and find my target like a heat seeking missile. Several other lechers approach Samantha. Irrationally, I have a quick notion to go over like a dog and piss on her so they would stay the hell away from her. It’s as if they sense her sweetness, and like f*cking ants, they’re crawling all over her.
“…and I think we can be in the money. So you in?”
“Huh?” I’ve barely heard Jeff because I haven’t stopped staring long enough to focus on anything coming out of his mouth.