Page 16 of Big Dix

TEN

Atticus

She doesn’t respond, but I didn’t expect her to. She’ll be there because she’s just as hungry for me as I am for her. I have months of sexual foreplay with this woman from her social media replies to my posts, just constantly teasing me. Being who I am, I just couldn’t reply. Trust me; I wanted to. And I intend to take it all out on her delicate, tanned flesh tomorrow.

I stroll through my house, naked, my cock rock-fucking hard from just the thought of touching her. I can’t wait. I glide my palm over my length, root to tip, while my other hand opens her social media feed. The real her. Evelyn Salinas. Fuck, she is so beautiful.

Scrolling through her feed, I stroke myself like some sort of teenage pervert. Like I can’t call any number of women over to take care of this situation. But, only one woman will do this time, and I find myself surprised that the thought isn’t a little scarier. I’m not afraid of commitment, even if the last one burned me. I like having one person in my life.

This time, I’ll make sure it’s the right person.

I can’t help but laugh at a picture she has posted of her posing with some women at a bachelorette party—as evidenced by one lady wearing a “Bachelorette” sash. They are all smiles and tipping glasses back standing in front of the famous Las Vegas sign. I recognize Rimmington Banks’s wife. That must be the trip they got married on, if the rumors I heard at work are accurate. I’d say he got damn lucky.

Every one of these ladies is stunning. I scroll through a few more posts and find her cuddled up with a guy. It appears like they’re backstage at a concert.

And I recognize the guy who is practically pawing all over Evelyn.

A growl of possession escapes me.

It’s fucking Maddox Case, the guitarist from Beauty of Atrocity. They’re only the biggest goddamn band in the world.

Shit. I’m not usually intimidated by star power or good looks. I happen to possess both, but Maddox Case is a fucking legend. Women throw their underwear at him.

I read what she’s written, “Madd Love.” With a fucking heart emoji. And if I thought that for one second, maybe she just happened to land a photo opportunity, that theory gets blown all to hell because the fucker commented on her photo.

“Love you always, my little chiquita.”

His little chiquita.His fucking little chiquita?The fuck?

I scour all her posts. Hard-on long forgotten. Because fuck, if this guy is my competition, I need to step up my fucking game.

He comments on or likes almost every one of her pictures. Then I notice other members of the band liking her posts and commenting. What in the fuck? Not finding anything that tells me how or why she is friends with this fucking band is driving me insane. So, I do the only thing I know to do. I call my agent.

“Atticus, this better be good. It’s two in the morning, and I just got the baby back to sleep.”

Shit. I glance at the clock because I hadn’t even realized I just spent hours trolling Evelyn’s social media. All of the band members’ accounts are private, though. I just can’t rest until I know.

“Hey, Vannah. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was so late. I need a number or something to get in touch with Maddox Case.”

A long pause greets me, and I wonder if she fell back asleep.

“Van? You awake?”

“Atticus. Send me an email. I’ll forward it to my assistant. Do I even want to know?”

“No, probably not.”

“Just keep it out of the press. Okay?”

“Will do, Van. Thanks.”

The line goes dead and shit; I’m confused, pissed, and hard, and I still don’t have any answers.

ELEVEN

Evelyn

“Evelyn. Order up.”

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