A Double Shot of Heaven

By S.N. Garza

"F*CK! THAT P*SSY LIKES TO GET POUNDED, DOESN’T IT?"

WHAT THE HELL?

That’s what I hear coming from the bedroom of the apartment of my supposedly sick boyfriend. Here I was holding homemade soup made out of love and this creep is screwing some chick? And really? Who honestly talks like that? He’s never talked to me that way. Maybe he’s watching porn. Then again, maybe not. I get up to the door and hear her. The other woman.

YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!

Well, f*ck that. I go out with my best friend to the hottest club in Houston. That’s when I turn and stumble into him. He is the sexiest man I’ve ever seen and when we both started shooting back shots, I show my ex exactly what he’ll never have again. That’s when I decide to take the ultimate payback. The sexy, tattooed stranger next to me said, “Come home with me.” And I did. I just never expected to want more.

• Language: English
• Publisher: S.N. Garza
• Release date: Jul 23, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463239575

S.N. Garza

I am a 37 year old wife and mother of two who lives in a small country town in southeast Texas. I work during the day at Chilis Bar and Grill. I write dark, deeply emotional stories weaved with erotic romance that leaves you wanting more. My debut novel is Love Came Back & my best selling book & series, is The Billionaire’s Baby, book one in my Nauti Billionaires of Houston series. It is all sexy passion with an alpha hero who’ll sweep you off your feet.

Book preview

Double Shot of Heaven

Love & Law series

Books One

By: S.N. Garza

©2019 by Stephanie N. Garza

Cover Art by SNGarza

Cover Photos by Sara Eirew

Edited by: K. Bolt

All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the work of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, business establishments or locales is entirely coincidental.

OTHER TITLES

LOVE & LAW

A Double Shot of Heaven

Such a Beautiful Drug

CHUBBY CHASERS

Chasing Guinevere

NAUTI BILLIONAIRES OF HOUSTON

The Billionaire’s Baby

The Billionaire’s Mistress

A Very Mitchell Christmas

SOUTHERN INK

Bad Rep

MEN OF BEAUMONT PLACE

My Next Mistake

BOUND HEARTS

Bound

PYRO-PRINCESS DESIGN & STYLE

Love Came Back

HOT HOUSTON NIGHTS SERIALS

Graham & Isabelle 1-3

Grant & Pippah 1-3

Hot Houston Nights: Volume 1

SECOND CHANCES

His Second Chance

ALPHA DOUCHEBAGS OF GRIFTON FALLS UNIVERSITY

Gabriel & Willow duet

The Prince

The Virgin

Lochlan & Ragan trilogy

The Dom

The Princess

Their Happily Ever After (coming Fall 2022)

SINGLE TITLES

Cross My Heart

Served

X-Treme Measure

My Sweet Temptation

Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend

Santa Baby

Table of Contents

Copyright

Other titles

Playlist

Blurb

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

35

36

Back of Bk Sh*t

About the Author

PLAYLIST

Home Alone Tonight by Luke Bryan is basically what I listened to the entire book. No playlist unfortunately. But this song is the muse for this book.

BLURB

F*CK! THAT PUSSY LIKES TO GET POUNDED, DOESN’T IT?

WHAT THE HELL?

That’s what I hear coming from the bedroom of the apartment of my supposedly sick boyfriend. Here I was holding homemade soup made out of love and this creep is screwing some chick?

And really? Who honestly talks like that? He’s never talked to me that way. Maybe he’s watching porn. Then again, maybe not. I get up to the door and hear her. The other woman.

YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!

Well, fuck that. I go out with my best friend to the hottest club in Houston. That’s when I turn and stumble into him. He is the sexiest man I’ve ever seen and when we both started shooting back shots, I showed my ex exactly what he’ll never have again.

That’s when I decide to take the ultimate payback. The sexy, tattooed stranger next to me said, Come home with me.

And I did. I just never expected to want more.

CHAPTER 1

Synnah

Fuck, yes! That pussy likes being pounded, doesn’t it?

What. The. Fuck? I quietly close the door behind me as I walk into my boyfriend’s condo house.

Who’s here with him? When Ben told me he wasn’t feeling good, I thought I’d do the good girlfriend thing and bring him some homemade chicken noodle soup.

Now, homemade chicken noodle soup takes time, love and a lot of work. It’s a family recipe going back generation on my mother’s side, therefore, a shit ton of thought went into it.

Ben! Ben! PLEASE MAKE ME COME!

Who the hell does that female voice belong to? I know it’s not porn either. Something feral begins to come alive inside of me.

Sick? Yeah, I think not. This a-hole is cheating on me! The closer I get to the bedroom, I hear wild howls being screeched— gross. What are they? Horny monkeys?

Here I made him soup to feel better and this motherfucker is fucking some chick? Who the hell does he think he is? No, I normally don’t have a sailor’s mouth but this definitely warrants a hostile attitude. Like I said, this feral feeling begins to burn through my veins.

COME ON, BETTY. TAKE THAT DICK, BABY!

One? Really? Who talks like that? Two. He never talked to me like that when we had sex. Three. Betty? Only cows are named Betty. Four. This mo-fo right here. Ooooh. If I didn’t think I’d get caught, I’d murder him.

I get to the door, quietly twist the door knob and with every ounce of well-deserved anger burning inside my gut, I slam the door open, making it crack against the wall.

Both Ben and the cow—who looks like a fucking super model...gah. Asshole motherfucker—they fly up, see me, and Ben’s face is priceless.

But I don’t show anything except my RBF. Yeah. I have resting bitch face down to a fine art. I got that from my Yankee mama.

Feeling any better, Ben?

Synnah? What are you doing here?

He’s genuinely surprised to see me here? Again… really? I’m a good girlfriend. A damn good one as a matter of fact. He asked me last month to move in and I agreed. I wanted to finish my last semester at U of H where I’m getting my Bachelor of Business Administration degree in management beforehand. I wanted to make sure I finished school before jumping in and taking that next step. He said he understood. He said he respected that.

He was also my boss at the company I worked at.

Yeah.

I know. I really don’t wanna go there. We just… clicked. He works at his father’s real estate business and I’m the secretary. The girl that directs people where to go and who to see and answers the phones for them.

It had been really slow. Our relationship. He’s only four years older than my own twenty-three. Well, the click we had is about to be blown to bits.

"What am I doing here? I am a loyal girlfriend making sure her sick boyfriend gets better by bringing him a bowl of homemade soup. To come and take care of him before my class starts. By the looks of the cow sprawled on top of you, it seems like she’s making sure you’re just fine. You fucking jerk-motherfucker-cowfucking-douchebagasuarus rex. Here."

Yup. I did it. I open the lid to the soup and throw the warm contents on their naked forms. Their howls of surprise and pain do nothing to me as I turn, grab the door knob and slam it closed behind me. I drop the bowl and make my way to the front.

Oh, yeah. Better do it now before I leave for good.

I go back and shove the door open and say, I quit. And you really weren’t that great in bed. I faked it. Every time. Then I look over to Betty and tell her, Hope you like his weenie-sized dick. Sure didn’t do a damn thing for me. Good luck.

Yeah. Take that. I slam the door shut, hear the rattle vibrate along the walls and walk back down the hallway. By the time I get to the door, I hear Ben calling out my name.

Nope. So not interested.

Synnah! Wait a damn minute.

Just as I open the front door, I turn to see him hauling up a pair of trousers. Ugh. Disgusting.

No. Fuck off, small dick.

Then I walk out his door, slamming that one, too. Yeah. Maybe I’m being a tad bit irrational but if you’ve ever been cheated on and saw that disgusting display? There’s only two ways of dealing.

One. Like a strong, unemotional, unattached vessel with a lot of angry, feral attitude. Or two. Like the world is shattering around you like glass.

Fuck option two. My mama didn’t raise no fool. Although now… ugh. She was right. I might have been a little too cavalier in my affections for that creep. Because I told Ben I loved him. My parents never really cared for him. Told me he was disingenuous. As if he was performing. Did I believe them?

Obviously not, since I stayed with him— way too long it seems like. I told them they just didn’t know him like I did. He’d warm up to them.

I’m a fucking idiot. Ugh. I didn’t even want to go to class now. I’m fired up. Adrenaline’s spiking through my veins and I’m ready to explode.

Ooooh.

Breathe, Synnah.

Ha.

I hop in my Mustang and crank the engine. The song that filters through the country radio station— Ben hated country— who didn’t like country? Motherfucker lives in Texas. Everyone likes country. Should’ve known right then that something was fishy— but whatever. The song is perfect for the mood I’m in at this moment. Carrie Underwood’s Before He Cheats just hit the first chorus and I reverse my car and just as I peel away, Ben’s running down his pretty, pristine front yard, calling out my name.

I roll down my driver side window and shoot my hand up in the air, flipping him off as I turn on the main road to the front of his subdivision. Fucking asshole. That’s right. If I wouldn’t get caught, I’d slash his tires. Key his pretty little Porsche he was sooooo obsessed with. Like who gives a fuck? Ugly fucking car. Un-American if you ask me.

So I crank up the volume until the only thing I hear is the music blasting out of the speakers.

I have class soon. I don’t even want to go now. How am I going to concentrate? This is a total clusterfuck. I make my way through Downtown Houston from where Ben, the big bag of sweaty balls, lived in the Historic District in the Heights and figure maybe I’ll go see my parents. They’ll make me feel better.

They were the only ones who could calm my temper. That or BN. What’s BN? Barnes and Noble. My second haven outside of my parents. I need to stay in the area anyway for school. I don’t really feel like hearing I told you so. So BN it is.

I’d say my best friend Harley would calm me down, but she’s just as high tempered as I am and will only put more fuel on the fire.

Besides, my folks live in Sugarland. Useless to drive all the way there and then have to turn back to go to school. I turn down West Holcombe and into the parking lot of BN. I try not to splurge too much when I go shopping because like any other adult, I have bills. Plus school.

And I just quit my job.

Fuck. Me.

I drop my head back onto the leather headrest, cursing myself for my stupidity. Of course, that’s the only action I could’ve taken now. I slept with the boss. Or boss’s son. That shit would be beyond fucking awkward and too fucked up for me to deal with. I’ll have to e-mail Mr. Lawrence my resignation. He didn’t know I was dating his son. And seeing his a-hole face every day would only make me do something irrational. Like stab his dumbass with a pencil. Or throw a stapler at his face. Whatever’s handy.

That’s another point in the bad column. Ugh. Looking at the last year, a lot of shit is in the CONS category of our relationship. He hid me. Fucking jerkface. Dipwad. Dipshit. I so need to get a handle on this anger.

I throw open my door, seeing only about a dozen cars in the lot and head to the one place I’d be fucking shit up. By fucking shit up, I mean my bank account.

Two hours later and three hundred and fifty dollars later… oh, yeah. You know it.

I said fuuuuck it.

I bought books that I’ve been wanting to buy but thought I should wait until Christmas or something. Am I going to regret spending this much? Probably.

Not right now I’m not though.

I haul my new pretties into the passenger seat just as my phone starts ringing. I honestly thought he’d be calling me sooner than this but then he wasn’t finished fucking the cow. I shuffle through my purse and grab my iPhone.

Not him. Thank God. But then damn, maybe he wasn’t finished fucking the cow. Whatever. None of my business anymore. I don’t want to deal with that asshole anyway.

No, it’s Harley. My best friend since the third grade. Who I also share an apartment with, so that only brought us closer after high school. We have no secrets. Period. She’s a little bit of a party girl and she’s going to love this. I don’t even bother with a hello and start with—

I quit my job. We are hanging out tonight. And we are getting fucked up.

Whoa. Harley’s voice is shocked and surprised then instantly concerned. What happened, Syn?

I am officially a single woman. That’s what happened.

What did that whack-off do, Syn? And hells yeah! We are definitely going to the Manatee tonight.

A nightclub? I thought maybe you know, buy some liquor, and binge watch some Netflix. Maybe some SPN?

Oh, hell no. I’m taking you out. You’ve been Bennah, all year. It’s time to get hot, get tight and party hard, girlfriend. Which I am more than willing to provide for you my bestest, dearest friend. Also… you are getting a badass outfit. It’s Friday, girl. Time to party for once in your life.

Oh, wonderful. That’s my best friend for you.

I’m not a party girl. Besides school, I really just read books. And more books. And then books on my kindle. Books everywhere. I have shelves in my room at my parents. And in the apartment I share with Harley. Yeah, you can say I had a problem. But since Harley had no problem with it, I know she won’t mind the haul I’ll be bringing home.

Syn? Synnah? You there?

Shaking out of my book day dream, I bring myself back to the present.

Yeah, sorry. I’m leaving BN.

"Holy shit. It must have been bad. Let’s skip cla—

No. I’m not skipping just because of that dickless piece of crap.

Dickless? Holy shit. You don’t cuss, Synnah. At least not out in public.

Well, I do now. I just have one class. It ends at four and then I’ll meet you at H & M in the Galleria at half past. Don’t be late if you want me to get something skimpy.

It’ll be tasteful, not skimpy. Oh, Synnah. You’ve never had fashion taste. You’d dress up in coveralls and a flannel like some lumber jack if you have it your way.

I put my phone in the drink tray and reverse out of the parking spot.

I do not dress like that and you know it. I wear business attire at Lawrence Real Estate Agency and wore jeans when I was with Ben. And I also no longer have a job because I quit.

An irritated sigh comes over the phone. Figured as much and yeah. Exactly. Jeans. You have nothing but leggings and jeans and not even I would be caught dead in your business attire. You look like a grandma.

If you weren’t my best friend, Harley.

Ha. You love me and you like my frankness. I mean, you wear skimpy underwear. Why can’t you apply that to the rest of your wardrobe?

Shut up. I’m going to class. I’ll catch up with you at H & M.

Fine. I’m picking out the outfit. And shoes. And accessories. Is that understood?

Gah. She spoke to me as if she was my master. I roll my eyes and let out a long, heavy puff of air as I give in.

Whatever, Harley.

YAY! See you at four-thirty!

Click.

That’s Harley. When she was done… that was it. No bye, just click. Also, I’m sure she knows I’d probably try to get out of wearing super sexy clothes if we stayed on the phone any longer.

I don’t know how I stay friends with her sometimes with her abrupt manners. It’s refreshing at times, but then it can be annoying, too. Especially when she’s right. She hadn’t liked Ben either.

Luckily for me though, class is a breeze and I leave with a five page assignment that is due in three weeks from my Ethics and Corporate Social Responsibilities course. Easy peasy.

Harley’s already waiting for me when I arrive, rifling through the skimpy short skirts area.

Yeah, like my big ass is not going to show in those slutty skirts.

Sigh.

I know that’s exactly the type of outfit she’s going to make me wear. Clothes like her.

Harley, that shit is way too damn short for me and you know it. My ass is going to fall out of the bottom, girl.

I’ll find one that’s not so bad. She pushes through the racks, her hands going in lightning speeds. Let’s just say she’s a pro at this shopping shit. What did that motherfucker do? Burn your books?

No, I caught him fucking some cow on his bed. A.k.a some hot, porn wannabe girl who looks like my exact opposite.

The pile of clothes she had in her hand falls to the ground as her mouth opens wide.

No freaking way. Are you serious? That low down, good for nothing, son of a bitch.

Luckily, his mother is a bitch, so that name goes perfectly. Not that she knew we were together. Ugh! Harley, he hid me. I allowed that creep to hide me as if I wasn’t good enough. God, how could I have been so stupid? That chick he was fucking looked like she was some runway model.

Gah! Fuck it, Syn. Fuck that motherfucking douchebag and his little dick. We are going to go out tonight and men are going to be all over that fine ass of yours. Aha! This is the perfect outfit.

She slides if off the rack and holds it high to show me.

Oh. My. God. I’m dead.

CHAPTER 2

Cain

Yo, Wolfe!

I look up to see a brown envelope being thrown right at my head. Good thing I have fast reflexes because I catch it right before it whacks me on the head.

The fuck is this, Bry?

Bryan Castroy is my best friend and business partner in our law firm, WC Law. We’re divorce lawyers and the best in the business here in the south.

Your walking papers, Cain. That’s what that shit is. Now. He says this while rubbing his hands together in glee. How are we going to celebrate?

Celebrate? Why would I celebrate divorce?

I just finished up with a client on the phone when he came barging in here with his larger than life, cocky, don’t-give-a-fuck attitude.

My wife of eight years decided my dick wasn’t enough for her anymore. Stupid cuntbag. God knew how long she’s been screwing our gardener. You would think that makes me sound like some old codger with a wife who wants a younger guy. Ha. You’d be wrong. I’m only thirty-four. My wife— ex-wife now —is only three years younger than me and our gardener, is twenty-five. Talk about being a cuckold.

When we first got together, I had made my first million. We fell in love and well, that had been that. Eight years later, I’m one of the highest paid lawyers in Texas and one of the highest ranking law firms in the nation. I’m worth billions now and I paid Meredith off with a handsome settlement and she can never bother me again.

Because, your dick’s no longer attached to some cuntbagasuarus. Therefore, bro. We are going to Manatee tonight.

Oh, give me a break. That’s not my style, Bryan. You know that.

With a droll eye roll, he snorts, saying, Pussy’s not your style? You’re not into dicks now, are you? You don’t feel maybe like attracted to me, do you? Because bro? I don’t swing that way.

You’re a dick, Bryan.

Yeah, well, going to a nightclub will be perfect. The pussy will be hot, young and fresh.

You do realize that hot, young pussy will be just barely twenty-one?

Who gives a shit? Cain, we’re fortunate that we got looks, brains and brawn.

I can’t do anything except shake my head. Bryan never understood why I married in the first place and he pledged to remain a bachelor for the rest of his life. Since Meredith and I didn’t have kids… her choice, not mine— thank God for that now —but it’s easier when kids aren’t involved. The older kids understood better but when either Bryan or I handle cases that deal with smaller children, it sometimes got ugly. Hence why Bryan’s adamant in sticking with his single status lifestyle.

Now, let’s grab some dinner and get going. The night is young and there’s a buffet of snatch waiting for our carnivorous appetites.

And that’s why you’ll never get a girlfriend, dude. You’re so fucking disgusting.

Bryan’s raucous laughter trails behind him as he opens the door. Before he shuts it behind him, he turns back and says, Oh, by the way. We need to hire a receptionist. Secretary, whatever. Ruth quit.

Fuck.

Why did she quit, Bryan?

I made her cry.

I let out a heavy sigh and shake my head. Bryan tends to make people cry easily. While with me he’s laid back, with all other people he’s a complete prick. Even with his personal assistant, Ryan, he’s mostly one. He has no finesse but that helps tremendously in the courtroom. He’s a badass lawyer. I’m just as ruthless, but I’m quiet about it.

Through my divorce, he was a hothead. He never liked Meredith but had been respectful because of our friendship. He was at least cordial. Since its official and final, all bets are off.

Dammit, Bryan. You make them all cry.

Well, hire one with an iron stomach and can handle orders like a bitch can. But a pretty one. Not a troll.

Bryan.

He shuts the door behind him and I run a hand down my face. Great. Thank God it’s the weekend after today. I leave the office and stop where my PA, Alex, is typing away on his computer.

Alex, can you find a receptionist please?

A snort derives from behind the computer screen as he mentions, Already putting out an inquiry, sir. Why does he have to make them cry?

Ryan and Alex have been our PA’s since the beginning and when our workload got heavy, it was a lot for them to keep our schedules, answer the phones, and keeping all the little, every day stuff organized. Even after hiring more junior partners, it was enough to keep everyone busy.

We’re known all over Texas and the surrounding southern states. Loved by our clients because we got the most out of the opposing client.

One forefront policy was we didn’t bat against each other. We weren’t the only ruthless fuckers out there, but we have a very high success rate. We’ve only just begun adding senior and junior partners within the last few years since our workload has tripled.

It’s his way.

Yeah, well, he’s going to give WC a bad name, Mr. Wolfe. I’ll see what I can do. It’s Friday, so I don’t know how successful I’ll be until Monday.

No worries and thanks, Alex.

One thing about Bryan and me? We aren’t just divorce lawyers. We also do Family Law— dealing with adoption, child custody and support, father’s rights, property division, and the like. We were jacks-of-all-trades here. We have three senior attorneys and four junior attorneys. As one of the best law firms in the nation, it took a shit ton of sleepless nights and hard work between Bryan and I to make it where we are and at our age.

Bryan and I met freshman year at college. He’s a classic narcissist and had gotten in a dispute that was a little out of his league when I stepped in. At the time, Bryan was scrawny, but he had a brain that never shut off.

When he popped off to some jocks and they got a punch in, I rushed in and knocked the one who hit him, out like a light. The other was just as big as me and when he tried swinging, he was too wide and I went in for the kill shot and broke the fucker’s nose. Bryan had been lying on the ground and I shot out my hand to help him up.

I’ve never seen someone move that fast before. How’d you lay ‘em low like that?

I’ve boxed all my life, bro. They might be jock heads, but they don’t know shit about real fighting.

Once on his feet, we walked away from the two pathetic fucks on the ground and when I thought we’d separate, he introduced himself.

Bryan Castroy. Pre-law. He struck out his hand and I shook it.

Cain Wolfe. Also pre-law.

There was no turning back after that. We graduated top of our class, got our Juris Doctorate, and opened our own practice at the tender age of twenty-five. It took a few years of eighteen hour days. We did everything ourselves for the first year and that’s when Alex and Ryan come in.

They’re twin brothers that Bryan and I helped in a case. When we told them we couldn’t pay them much, they hadn’t cared. They wanted—almost begged—to just let them try to repay their gratitude and money wasn’t an issue. Which it shouldn’t have been, we got their mother millions from the prick who abused her. That dick hadn’t had a prenup. He thought she’d never leave him because she was nothing but a weak, pathetic woman. While we both believe she was a meek woman, once she got her backbone, she wanted to take him for whatever she could. Which was half and custody of the boys. Which we also made sure happened. Since they were old enough to decide, they chose their mother.

Good kids, the both of them, and the fact that Ryan handled Bryan’s narcissistic tendencies with grace, everything worked out.

I’m leaving the office when Bry calls.

We just talked. Can’t you wait until tonight?

Nope. I know once you get to your place you won’t leave, so I’m behind you. Let’s go grab a bite now. We can go over the Wellington case before we let off steam.

The Manatee though? Can’t we pick somewhere else to ‘let off steam’?

Nope. That place is hopping with bunnies and we are making sure we find you a hot, young bunny to fuck all night long. Since it’s a one night stand, you can probably get her to let you fuck her up her ass, too.

Sweet mother of God. He really takes it to the limit sometimes.

Bryan, there’s not a word for how fucked up you are.

Not any more than you are, I’m sure. I know you like getting all sorts of kinky and all that Christian Grey, Fifty Shades type shit.

Where the hell did you even hear that reference? And no. I have never been into BDSM, you sick fuck.

"You’re still a kinky motherfucker, so don’t play dumb with me. And women talk and I’ll admit, I watched the movie to see the chick’s tits and look to see if I could see her—

Bryan. Stop. I shake my head, disgusted. You’re disgusting, Bryan.

To each his own, I guess. Now. Pull off here and let’s grab some food. I’m starving.

One of these days, Bryan, mark my words, a woman is going to lay you so fucking low that you’ll fuck it up before you get a chance.

If that happens, I’ll wear a fucking tutu and sing the theme song to SpongeBob around the office in front of everyone.

Because I know I usually win all our bets, I’m for sure never letting this one go. You’re on, asshole.

By the time we get to Manatee’s, it’s just after ten. Bryan’s right. It’s hopping with girls. In a way I feel way too old to be in a place like this. Most girls here look like they’re all in college. Bryan sits next to me in a lounge back chair as we watch the wild things stir up trouble on the dance floor.

See anything you like, Cain?

Not really.

Why the hell did I let myself get dragged to this fucking club? It’s not like any of these women can deal with a guy like me. And yeah, Bryan is mostly right.

I like shit wicked in the bedroom and that was one of the things Meredith didn’t like. I only tried her back door once and she freaked out. Then it was like she couldn’t get away fast enough. I should’ve known then that’s when she started cheating. Like any dumb fuck, I also didn’t even think about a prenup. But then I thought we’d be together for the long haul. Even if she hadn’t wanted the kinkier shit, I would have dealt with that.

I respected her wishes. I never touched another woman while we were together and I didn’t touch one while we were separated and haven’t yet through the final stages of our divorce. Now that it’s settled, I’m not in too much of a hurry to get in the sack, especially with someone ten years my junior. Which is half of this damn room.

"Cain. Come on, bro. Room full of—

Dear God, please stop. Look, this beer ain’t doing shit for me. I need something stronger if I’m going to deal with your crass.

I stand up, loosen my tie, and head towards the bar. I can feel Bryan behind me and we’re behind these two chicks when the blonde yells, We are getting you wasted and laid, girl. Laid by a guy who knows what to do with the dick in his pants and let’s pray it’s bigger than a cocktail weenie.

Bryan chokes next to me as my eyes widen. Does this girl know she could be heard? Her red headed friend shakes her head, but I can see her shoulders shaking. Hopefully she’s laughing at her crass mouthing friend. Reminds me of the dick beside me.

"All I said was let’s get drunk and dance, then go home and have an SPN marathon. I don’t need to get laid. I can jill off by myself."

Phooey. You are no fun.

I look over at Bryan who mouthed, ‘Jill off?’

Since I don’t understand the term, I shake my head and shrug my shoulders.

Come on! There’s hot guys all around here. One of them should be able to get your mind off that lying— wait a second. What did you call him? I loved that one.

The little redhead put her hands on her hips, cocks it and turns her head to her friend saying, I called him a fucking jerk, motherfucker, cowfucking, douchebagasuarus rex. I also told him I faked it. Every time.

Is it true?

I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but something in the red head’s voice sounded like a shot of whisky. Dark, husky, rich and country. And I wanted to know, too. She nodded her head.

That dickwad, good for nothing skeeze. Then we definitely need to find you a hot guy to fuck.

Then they were at the bar ordering shots of whisky.

I don’t know about that red head, but that blonde is hot. I love that mouth. Unfiltered. Filthy, too.

The women take their shots right there, then ask for another. After throwing back their second, the red head starts coughing.

Sweet Jesus. Come on, Harley! Let’s dance.

Just as they begin to turn, a few dipshits steamroll past them, practically throwing them into Bryan and me. I catch the red head while Bryan grabs a hold of the blonde.

The red head grabs the lapels of my suit, catching herself as my hands slide underneath her arms. Her body’s flush against mine and fucking Christ. My body stiffens and then my dick shoots to life at the feel of all that sweet softness against me.

Her hands crawl up to my shoulders and she straightens herself, a silly smile tilting on her lips. Sor—, a hiccup jumps from her mouth; then she begins laughing. The laugh is husky and sexy. Sorry.

Not your fault, ma’am. Yeah. I said ma’am. What can I say? I pride myself on being respectful.

You called me ma’am. Aren’t you... proper?

Proper? Being respectful is proper? Hell, who the fuck taught the next generation? Looking down into her sparkling blue, half-lit eyes, makes me do the strangest thing. My finger caresses down her cheek, making her breath hitch. She has the softest skin I’ve ever felt.

Not really. And hell if I can keep the slight growl coming out from my throat.

Her tongue licks around her luscious lips before another giggle slips out. Then she lets go of my shoulders and her friend wraps her arm around her before they giggle their way to the dance floor. My pants are now tight against my crotch, my groin hot with lust after a little slip of a woman with fiery red hair and blue sparkly eyes.

I didn’t even get to see what kind of curves she had, but I felt some of them. It’s too fucking dark in here to tell as she disappears in the crowd.

"Damn, Cain. I think I found the one