It makes me smile because it’s just the way I like it.

I tell myself that over and over again, as I walk out of the hotel.

It was just the way I like it.

Just the way I like it.

I keep repeating it, ignoring the gnawing emptiness at the center of my chest… the painful squeeze of some unrealized longing. I choose to believe I may be having a heart attack rather than think the unthinkable… that maybe something is truly missing.

Ridiculous really.

Yup… fuck ‘em and leave ‘em. That’s the stuff that dreams are made of.

Chapter 2

I stare at the deposition transcript in front of me, read the same line for probably the third time, and it’s just not sinking in. Glancing at my watch, I see it’s almost four o’clock.

I’m distracted and feeling off center. If I’m honest with myself, I’ve been feeling that way a lot lately. It’s like the flavor has gone out of everything. My food doesn’t taste as good, my courtroom victories aren’t as sweet and f**k, I hate to even admit it… a woman’s cl*t on my tongue hasn’t had that much allure either.

I think that’s because I’ve been having too much of it.

Right?

That could be the reason, although, even as I think that f**

king idiotic sentiment, my rational side is rolling its eyeballs. No man can ever have enough sex. That’s the truth.

Pushing the transcript aside, I pull up my internet browser and navigate my way to ONO’s secure server. I type in my logon and password, heading straight into my “wish list”. This is where I tag all the profiles of women that I have a passing interest in f**king. I’ve not been availing myself of it lately and, in fact, I’ve not had a “date” in six days. Almost an entire week of jerking off in the shower, which, honestly, has been producing about the same pleasure as I got with the lovely Marie just six days ago.

Sighing, I flip through the profiles, all the faces blurring together. That’s all you get at first… just a head shot of the woman. They are all spectacularly gorgeous, varied in hair color, ethnicity, size, and shape. I love women and find many things about a woman to be beautiful, but nothing I’m seeing right now is causing the remotest of pulsing in my pants.

I head back out to the home page and put in new search criteria.

Vanilla, Light Kink, Female, Age 21-45 and hit “Enter”.

Over a thousand profiles populate the screen, each with a thumbnail of their headshot showing up for perusal. I sort the list according to Membership Activation Date, newest on top.

Scrolling, scrolling, scrolling.

I halt on one picture that stands out. It’s fairly new… Number 3498… joined just a few weeks ago.

I click on the link and look at the larger photo that comes up before I read her stats.

She’s stunning… no doubt. Raven-black hair, crystal-green eyes, high cheekbones, perfectly straight and delicately narrow nose. Her lips are full, soft looking, and would only look better wrapped around my cock. She looks like a f**king runway model, and I stare at her for a while.

Her overall beauty, though, is not what’s really catching my attention. I look back at her eyes and once you get past the shock of seeing such lovely, pale green popping next to that black hair, I feel a thrill run through me when I realize what really is attracting me is the intelligence I see.

She stares directly at the camera and while she’s giving a sexy, sultry smile, her eyes are sharp and alert. Almost calculating.

It’s f**king hot, and my dick is definitely twitching in interest.

But as sometimes happens, right in the midst of a good hard-on, something comes along and kills it deader than a doornail.

That would be my phone ringing Heart’s Barracuda, which means my ex-wife, Marissa, is calling me.

I contemplate not answering it for just about two seconds, but then push that right out of my mind. Chances are she’s calling to bust my balls, demand money, or some other devious way to make me suffer. But on the off chance it’s something serious about our seven-year-old son, Gabe, I can’t take the chance of missing her call.

“What do you need?” I ask tiredly into the phone as soon as I connect it.

“You could at least answer politely,” she snaps, and I know this is going to be one of those conversations where I’d rather have my nuts castrated than listen to another moment of her vitriol.

I don’t respond though, because she’s aiming for a fight and if I do, it will fuel the flames. I find it completely ironic, a little bit sad, and a whole lot unfair that she was the one that cheated on me, and yet she’s the one that gets to act all offended when our marriage crumbled. My mom once told me it was her guilt causing her to act that way, but I can’t believe that for a moment. The only thing Marissa was guilt stricken about was that she got caught and it ruined her swank lifestyle when I kicked her to the curb.

After several seconds of silence, she sighs. “I need some money. ”

“No,” I tell her, because this isn’t the first time she’s asked. The bitch tried to sneak in a boob job after telling me she needed the money to send Gabe to an expensive summer camp last year.

“It’s for Gabe,” she whines.

“Nice try,” I tell her firmly, glancing back at the photo of Number 3498 on my computer screen. Those intelligent eyes seem to be boring into me, seeing deep inside to the tribulations I suffer under Marissa’s antipathy.

Tags: Sawyer Bennett Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net