Page 13 of Meet Hate Love
On the way down, I told myself I was karma’s vessel, that the hairy bitch was working through me, although the anxious little Jiminy-Cricket knot kinking my stomach tried to say differently.
Frowning at my reflection in the elevator mirror, I shook my head. “Lunchbox Museum,” I whispered. “Lunchbox Museum or the The Moulin Rouge.” I shouldn’t have to commit a kinda-sorta crime to still to go to The Moulin Rouge because Vance’s bastard butt should have never tried to steal myEat, Pray, Loveassignment. But he had, and really, what choice did I have if I didn’t want to be the doormat to the man with a dick who had seen more world monuments than me?
Yeah, it was definitely karma…
When the elevator opened, I hurried through the brightly lit lobby, straight to the door, and outside into the sweltering heat. The hum of traffic and blast of horns swirled around me as I maneuvered through the crowded sidewalk to the Drip Drip Coffee Café. I reached for the door and froze.
What if I got caught?
What if Vance turned me in?
I mean,Icouldn’t really expect luck to be on my side... The bell over the door tinkered when I stepped inside. One deep inhale of freshly brewed coffee and a little sanity crept in. Vance wouldn’t rat me out because then he’d have to admit he owned the My Dick Travels site, and work would not look fondly on dick pics taken on the company dime.
I went to the counter and ordered a coffee, imagining the anger that would flicker through his moss-green eyes when he realized it was me who had left that note. He would assuredly be livid, and his disdain for me would grow, but as long as Mr. Tall Dark Dick Choker gave in to my demands, I didn’t really care.
I took my coffee from the barista and sat at a tiny table in the back.
I’m at the office window. Big Cock is waiting at the crosswalk on the corner. Like a digital dick-slinging prostitute.
She had a way with words…
Even from here, you can tell he has a nice ass. Maybe he’ll do a spin-off website.
I’d pay to have a few clit flicker reels of those mighty ass cheeks. ??
I dragged a hand down my face, then took a sip of my coffee. God only knew what crap she would send next.Ding—It was a zoomed-in picture of Vance, or better yet, his ass, at the crosswalk. Even in dress slacks, I could tell the guy could probably pick up a pencil between those things. A punctual, grumpy gym rat with a flare for making ridiculous dick selfies feel like dirty porn. A conundrum, indeed.
He’s crossing the street.
At the door. Cock-a-doodle-doo is at the door!!!
Before I could look up from the table, another message came through.
Remember. Don’t back down. You have him by his Photoshopped balls.
I silenced my phone just as Vance stepped inside.
His unnerved gaze drifted around the shop, the muscles in his jaw ticcing when he homed in on something behind me. My heart rate picked up with a mixture of guilt-laden anxiety and excitement when he started across the café.The Eiffel Tower. Baguettes. Italian men and endless coffee. Even tittie tittie cwassant…It was all within my reach.
Closer and closer he came. He stopped beside my table—the bulge of Paul at my eye level.
When my gaze met his, his dark brows pinched together. “We need to talk about things. Well,athing.” I jutted my chin toward his crotch.
“Motherfucker…” The man swore? Oh, I’d ruffled his little uptight feathers, hadn’t I.
He sank to the chair across from me, raking his fingers through his short dark hair. “Are you kidding me?”
“Absolutely not.”
“You…” Flaring his nostrils, he glanced around the small café before leaning across the table, close enough that no one else would hear. Close enough that the intoxicating smell of cardamon and leather and man wrapped around me. “You said you know about Paul, but—”
“Oh, I know all about your dick named Paul and his Europenis Tour. Which, by the way, is the stupidest name in the history of porn or whatever it is you’re doing.” It wasn’t. It was actually really witty. If I’d had a dick and a plan like that, I would have one hundred percent called it that.
“It’s not my dick,” he said.
“Bullshit.”
He deadpanned me. “Have you ever seen my dick, Blake?” There was a subtle lilt to his voice, like maybe it was an offer. I reminded myself that the man probably set a timer on his phone when he had sex to make sure he came on time.
