Chasing Her (Dark Love 3)

“C’mon, give a girl a break. I blow ya dick that hard, I deserve a fucking medal,” she gloats.

As she attempts to light the cigarette, I pull it out of her hands and throw it in the trash can beside my bedside table. Angrily, she huffs and folds her arms. Her tits are pushed up, the silicone looking about ready to explode from the force.

“I’m really over this, Julian. What the fuck do you want, huh? One minute you’re ignoring my calls, and the next, you’re begging me to fly here so you can screw my brains out.”

The answer is simple—I want Charlie.

And Roxy isn’t her, no matter how much I try to change her. Her hair may look the same, but it lacks the shine, the floral smell, the way it softly falls, allowing you to run your hands through it.

“I’m hopping in the shower. Please be gone when I’m done.”

“Are you fucking out of your mind?” she shrieks, grabbing my arm and pulling me back to her. “First, you make me dye my hair, then you send me to Lex’s place to fuck him, again. It’s not my fault that backfired in your face! Does she fucking wear the same perfume and clothes you buy for me? I’m not a fucking fool, Julian. I look exactly like her. I’m just waiting for the moment when you scream her name during sex and not mine.”

It almost happened, or should I say I’ve had to bite my tongue every time.

“Roxy. Leave. Now.”

“Gladly. Don’t go fucking calling me again to fulfill your sick and twisted fantasies.”

Roxy grabs her clothes and quickly puts them on. Fully dressed, she heads for the door but stops to face me. “I’d watch my back if I were you. If Lex Edwards gets wind of this, you’re dead fucking meat. I wouldn’t mess with him anymore… or his wife.” Roxy slams the door behind her, leaving me to bask in my own pity.

She’s right. I have been lucky not to be caught out by him.

I was playing with fire, knives in hand, standing at the edge of the tallest building, and with one gust of wind, dead. If Lex knew what I’ve done, what I do, you might as well pay your respects now.

But I’m not that stupid.

And I’m always one step ahead of him.

Bowing my head, I sit at the edge of the bed, trying once again to figure out where I went wrong and how the fuck I let myself get to where I am now.

Charlie is the one, the only woman who makes me forget Chelsea ever existed. I knew it the moment I laid eyes on her that day at the gym. Sure, there were similarities, uncanny similarities, but only physical ones.

She’s perfect in every way, unbelievably beautiful and sexy, not to mention intelligent, witty, and knows exactly what she wants in life. And she is the most amazing fuck I’ve ever experienced.

I know women like her don’t just fall into your lap. Most of the time, they get loose nuts in their head or are bitten by the marriage and baby bug. I’ve had my share of clingers

, but Charlie is nothing like those women.

Everyone warned me she was too good to be true, so I proposed to her after a few short months. Why the fuck not? She satisfied every desire of mine and gave me hope of a future without the nightmares which continue to plague me since Chelsea’s death.

When she said ‘yes,’ I couldn’t have been more ecstatic. Turns out, marriage and starting a family isn’t so bad if you’ve got the perfect woman by your side.

I wanted her—all of her—the entire package. She’d be my happily ever after, and most importantly, Chelsea’s ghost no longer haunted me.

But with anything good comes the bad, and I still remember the moment she withdrew—if only I knew why.

“Gorgeous, you’re tense. Bad day at work?”

Charlie’s shoulders stiffened. She normally enjoyed when I massaged her. In fact, it always led to me taking her from behind, pulling on her hair and whispering profanities in her ear just the way she liked it.

“Yeah, something like that,” she mumbled.

She turned around to face me, her eyes looked pained. Something was weighing heavily on her mind, but it wasn’t my style to push someone if they didn’t want to talk.

I moved my hand toward the back of her neck, and with a slight force, I pulled her into me. There was resistance at first until her tongue circled mine, and she moaned slightly. It was my cue to take what was mine, but she pulled away, out of breath, apologizing that she needed to clear her head. She stood up from the couch and searched for her purse, stopping only for a moment to lean down and kiss me goodbye.

I clutched her arm. “Are we okay?” I asked, not that I had anything to worry about, she was my fiancée, after all. Charlie accepted my ring and wore it proudly on her finger. She’d soon become Mrs. Baker.