Can't Fix Cupid

I kissed her.

With her body poised on top of mine, her breasts shoved against my chest, and her heat pressing against my cock, I kissed her like I’ve never kissed anyone before in my whole fucking life.

I meant what I said to her. If we hadn’t stopped, I would’ve taken her right then and there. But she deserved better than the back seat of my car, while my driver no doubt sat in the front, playing one of his games on his phone. She deserved more than tinted windows separating us from a crowd of people walking by outside. Deserved more than the sounds of traffic as our backdrop.

So, as hard as it was to pull away from her delicious mouth and drop my hands off her curves, it was the right move.

But try telling that to my dick, which hasn’t gone down since I had her straddled on my lap.

It doesn’t help things that she looks like a damn angelic wet dream right now.

As soon as I escorted Trix inside, Tonya’s team swept her away for hair and makeup and clothing.

She’s now wearing a skintight white dress and a pair of pale pink wings that match her hair. White heels accentuate her long, tan legs, and the dress is doing some major favors for me, showing off the perfect amount of cleavage beneath her sweetheart neckline.

Her makeup is dewy, her hair is in relaxed, voluminous curls, and every time she looks over at me and bites her lip, I have to shift in my seat like I’m a damn preteen catching accidental nipslips at the pool.

Tonya had white and red backdrops installed in the basement of my building—which is just a nickname for the empty bottom floor that she uses for photo shoots whenever we need to do some promo or marketing campaigns. Expensive lighting shines on the space, each one being manned by several different people. One person is even the designated fan blower.

There are several male and female models around, all of them dressed in date attire, waiting for their turn as they hang around by the food table.

Blue is also dressed up, sporting a vastly different outfit than her overalls that she wore during our real date. She’s now dressed in a breezy summer dress and has her dreadlocks pulled over one shoulder and secured with a band.

It’s a madhouse down here. Tonya barks orders left and right, the photographer moves people constantly, while everything from lighting, wind, props, and models, are directed to play like instruments in an orchestra.

Yet despite the dozens of people, the noise,

and the hectic distractions—despite the fact that I have pressing work I should be doing—all of my attention is on her.

I promised myself no commitments, and I never had a problem with that before. But now, I find myself wishing I could break that promise. My saving grace is the fact that Trix is leaving. I try to tell myself that I’m not being a selfish ass by taking advantage of that. If she’s leaving anyway, then there’s no harm in enjoying each other while she’s here.

Tonya is hollering out orders to the photographer, who in turn hollers out orders to the models, Trix included. Personally, I thought the wings were a bit over the top. But Tonya insisted Trix wear them.

The dating app is ready to launch, and I can’t help but agree that Trix is the perfect face to represent CupidShuffle. After just a few minutes of entering in your info and uploading a photo to the app, you’ll be matched by our resident cupid. Don’t like the match? Just press shuffle, and a new date is selected. The platform is crisp, the interface is modern, it’s easy to use, and based on our beta users, Tonya thinks our launch will be successful.

Trix’s voice suddenly cuts through my thoughts. “I’m just saying,” she goes on, talking to one of the hair stylists as she fixes her hair, “cupid wings should be red. Not pink.”

The hair stylist just nods before spraying her with what looks like an entire can of aerosol. Trix wrinkles her nose, looking goddamn adorable as she waves a hand in front of her face. “Yuck. That stuff tastes awful.”

I have to bite the inside of my cheek, since smiling openly at her would probably freak out most of the people in here. I’m not a big grinner, but I find my lips constantly tugging up every time I’m around Trix.

I’ve known her for such a short amount of time, but it seems longer—which is a fucking cliche thing to think, but it’s true.

The photoshoot has taken hours, though I got my bit done during hour one. Trix has the difficult part, forced to endure thousands of photographs, while Tonya puts her in every pose imaginable.

Harvey left with Blue a long time ago, eyeing me curiously as to why I was still sitting here like a schmuck. I know I’ll catch shit for it later, but I don’t care. Now that I gave myself the go-ahead to enjoy her, that’s exactly what I intend to do.

When we finally get the all-clear that the photographer has what he needs, Trix practically tosses off the wings and sprints in my direction. “Quick,” she says, glancing over her shoulder like she’s trying to be stealthy. “Sneak me out of here before Tonya changes her mind.”

I chuckle and rise from the chair, placing my hand on her back so I can lead her out of the room.

“I’m so hungry I could eat a whole Moroccan stew right now,” Trix tells me.

I grimace a bit at the memory of said stew projectiling all over my shoes. “Please don’t.”

She tips her head back and laughs as we go into the elevator. No one follows us in, so we have the small space all to ourselves. It’s the first time since the car ride that I’ve had her alone, and I’m itching to touch her.

Without warning, I reach out and press the button to stop our ascent, and her brown eyes widen. “What...what are you doing?”