Page 8 of Meet Hate Love
She peeled my hand away from the phone.
Once again, the doodled-on eyes of that massive cock stared up at me. And it was huge. Like Godzilla-takes-Tokyo-sized huge, and the silver barbell lodged through its thick head told my ovaries a man with a cock like that would be nothing more than a dirty fuck. One a woman would only regret because she’d look bad if she didn’t regret it.
“Brace yourself.” Margot plucked one of the grease-covered menus from the caddy at the side of the booth, then used it to point at the phone. “Because that amazing dick belongs to Vance.”
And for a moment, the world stopped spinning. Somewhere a fairy died.
That impressive, massive appendage belonged to Vance Morgan? Not that I would imagine Mr. Sophisticated Dream Crusher would have anything less than a dick like that. It matched his face—dreamy, with a hint of promised destruction—but he was boring, uptight, and grumpy as hell. Sure, he could whip up a witty line of dry sarcasm about cheddar cheese, but Vance was the guy I fully expected to grow old and yell at kids for riding their bikes across the corner of his pristine lawn, not have a pierced dick he paraded around like the Olympic torch on a Lonely Fans account.
This could not be real life.
I swiped through a few more photos in the hopes of affirmation only. The squish of lube and a deep, guttural groan cut through the suddenly silent restaurant when an unexpected video popped up.
Panic shot through me as I fumbled with the volume. God, it couldn’t be him. That grunt was too good. It was making me… I couldn’t bear to admit it—wet. “How do you know this is Vance, Margot?”
“Because of this.” She zoomed into the webspace between his thumb and pointer finger, tapping her nail over a heart-shaped birthmark. “I recognized it when he pushed the ground floor button inside the elevator.”
“Recognized it?” Like every minute detail of Paul, the Traveling Cock, had been laser burned into her memory. “How long have you been watching his site?”
“Months… and he must make bank. It’s forty bucks a whack to get access to some of those pictures.”
Forty bucks? To view a photo of his dick on full display in front of Niagara Falls?
I swiped to the next picture.
The monstrous cock stood in front of The Alamo, a raccoon hat Photoshopped on its head and the name DavieCocket underneath the picture. He’d spent fifteen minutes picking up hole-punch confetti, for fuck’s sake. Why would a man like that have a site like—and then it all clicked.
I repeatedly swiped left, my fury mounting with each city that flew past the screen.Honolulu.Singapore. The Maldives.
Every city in his feed was an assignment he’d beaten me out on.
That was why he’d stolenmyassignment—for his Europenis Tour. Not only would he get an amazing trip, but he’d also get dick pics he’d make money off of.
I clicked back to the home page to skim over the “tour” list.
The Leaning Tower ofPenis.
The Colisemen.
SistpeenChapel.
Mount Matterhorny.
Fuckingham Palace.
I went slack-jawed when I noticed he had made the tour announcement a monthbeforeWanderlust had even assigned anyone to the job. The presumptuous dick-swinger. “Oh, That asshole...” That dirty, big-dicked, thieving asshole. “He one hundred percent did this on purpose.”
Margot grinned across the table like the Cheshire Cat’s evil twin. “Blackmail it is, then?”
“Blackmail it definitely is.”
ChapterFour
VANCE
Black Eye Blake was pissed.
I’d heard her huff and puff all morning through the divider. Margot had whispered “dickass” every time she’d passed my cubicle. And after the elevator ride I’d just had with the two of them, I was pretty sure I shouldn’t leave my drink unattended at my desk unless I wanted to chance a dose of cyanide. Of course, my whole “Austria’s not on the agenda” comment didn’t help the cause, but I had a sick thing for the angry blush of hate that painted Blake’s cheeks crimson when I pissed her off. Just like I had a thing for the way the hot-pink dress pants she had on that day hugged her ass. One would think after the entire New Year’s knockout, my dick would have known better than to react to her, but lust was an idiot, and I evidently was its puppet because I’d never found another woman more attractive than I did her.
