my drink as I approached the group of girls Finn and I had been watching earlier.
They were standing against the back wall in a loose semi-circle, sipping expectantly on their drinks as their eyes wandered the bar. That was a good sign. The unorganized semi-circle was an invitation.
A lot of men came across as complete douchebags by approaching women in an entirely enclosed circle. Those women rarely ever left the bar with a man—maybe they had one slutty friend who hooked up with someone that night, but mainly they were there for a “girls’ night”.
I immediately ruled out two of the girls who had their backs to me. No interest as to what was going on outside of their circle. The other three girls immediately caught sight of me, their eyes widening a little. I immediately ruled out another two—they just weren’t my type.
The one with short, blonde hair was wearing a tiny denim skirt and a boob tube. She was almost done with her drink, and was making eyes at me as though she wanted to lick my skin off.
There it was—my in.
“Need a refill,” I said, looking her up and down.
She was tall, her legs were long and lean but toned. There was an unnecessary amount of gold eyeshadow on her lids, and her lips were too bright pink, like bubblegum, but there weren’t many other options for me.
It was bad makeup girl, or nothing.
“If you’re paying,” she said with a toothy smile that she probably thought was seductive.
It wasn’t.
And, as for women who expected men to always pay for their drinks, well, get the hell over it. It was the 21st century—pay for your own damn drinks.
Still, I knew how to play the game. Buy her a few drinks and you were in.
Finn was a pretty good wingman, but it was alcohol that was a man’s greatest asset. Alcohol was usually the only wingman you needed.
“No,” I said with small laugh, shaking my head. “ I need a refill.” Pausing, I chugged my drink in a few short seconds until there were only cubes of ice left in the glass.
The blonde gaped at me, her mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. Starting the conversation off with something unusual, something they didn’t expect, always caught their attention.
“Excuse me!” she cried, her face turning red. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
“Nathaniel James,” I said smoothly, extending a hand. “Wealthy, NYC asshole. I’m about to fuck you in the backseat of my car.”
The blonde glared down at my hand as though it was infected with herpes. “Not in a million years.”
She was about to eat her own words.
Eleven
Breaking Rules
Thirty minutes later, I was doing the blonde from behind in the backseat of my car, just as I had predicted.
She was splayed out on her stomach, pressing her hands below the window to brace herself against as she enjoyed every second of what I was giving her.
I had to admit, I was enjoying it, too. I hadn’t fucked a woman in well over a week, and considering the way Kira had been getting me horny since I’d gotten here, I was long overdue to release some of that sexual tension that had been building up.
Kira had never shown up. Fuck her. I wasn’t going to think about her as I banged the shit out of this girl. I was going to enjoy it for what it was—quick and easy sex.
It had taken a few minutes for me to work my magic on the blonde. That, and a few drinks, and she was eating out of the palm of my hand. Actually, she’d been eating my dick a few minutes ago, but we didn’t need to get into the details.
She hadn’t been that great at it, and had tried to sloppily kiss me with her dick mouth—yes, it had been my dick in her mouth, but I didn’t want to taste it—so I’d moved along to the sex as quick as I could.
Kissing was too intimate and shouldn’t have to be a prerequisite when having sex.
Anyway, girls like the blonde were easy. So easy that it was almost cheating. I’d forgotten her name, but it didn’t really matter at this point—‘baby’
They were standing against the back wall in a loose semi-circle, sipping expectantly on their drinks as their eyes wandered the bar. That was a good sign. The unorganized semi-circle was an invitation.
A lot of men came across as complete douchebags by approaching women in an entirely enclosed circle. Those women rarely ever left the bar with a man—maybe they had one slutty friend who hooked up with someone that night, but mainly they were there for a “girls’ night”.
I immediately ruled out two of the girls who had their backs to me. No interest as to what was going on outside of their circle. The other three girls immediately caught sight of me, their eyes widening a little. I immediately ruled out another two—they just weren’t my type.
The one with short, blonde hair was wearing a tiny denim skirt and a boob tube. She was almost done with her drink, and was making eyes at me as though she wanted to lick my skin off.
There it was—my in.
“Need a refill,” I said, looking her up and down.
She was tall, her legs were long and lean but toned. There was an unnecessary amount of gold eyeshadow on her lids, and her lips were too bright pink, like bubblegum, but there weren’t many other options for me.
It was bad makeup girl, or nothing.
“If you’re paying,” she said with a toothy smile that she probably thought was seductive.
It wasn’t.
And, as for women who expected men to always pay for their drinks, well, get the hell over it. It was the 21st century—pay for your own damn drinks.
Still, I knew how to play the game. Buy her a few drinks and you were in.
Finn was a pretty good wingman, but it was alcohol that was a man’s greatest asset. Alcohol was usually the only wingman you needed.
“No,” I said with small laugh, shaking my head. “ I need a refill.” Pausing, I chugged my drink in a few short seconds until there were only cubes of ice left in the glass.
The blonde gaped at me, her mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. Starting the conversation off with something unusual, something they didn’t expect, always caught their attention.
“Excuse me!” she cried, her face turning red. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
“Nathaniel James,” I said smoothly, extending a hand. “Wealthy, NYC asshole. I’m about to fuck you in the backseat of my car.”
The blonde glared down at my hand as though it was infected with herpes. “Not in a million years.”
She was about to eat her own words.
Eleven
Breaking Rules
Thirty minutes later, I was doing the blonde from behind in the backseat of my car, just as I had predicted.
She was splayed out on her stomach, pressing her hands below the window to brace herself against as she enjoyed every second of what I was giving her.
I had to admit, I was enjoying it, too. I hadn’t fucked a woman in well over a week, and considering the way Kira had been getting me horny since I’d gotten here, I was long overdue to release some of that sexual tension that had been building up.
Kira had never shown up. Fuck her. I wasn’t going to think about her as I banged the shit out of this girl. I was going to enjoy it for what it was—quick and easy sex.
It had taken a few minutes for me to work my magic on the blonde. That, and a few drinks, and she was eating out of the palm of my hand. Actually, she’d been eating my dick a few minutes ago, but we didn’t need to get into the details.
She hadn’t been that great at it, and had tried to sloppily kiss me with her dick mouth—yes, it had been my dick in her mouth, but I didn’t want to taste it—so I’d moved along to the sex as quick as I could.
Kissing was too intimate and shouldn’t have to be a prerequisite when having sex.
Anyway, girls like the blonde were easy. So easy that it was almost cheating. I’d forgotten her name, but it didn’t really matter at this point—‘baby’
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