Black Obsidian (Obsidian 1)

Her eyes widened with hostility before that pretty little mouth of hers told me off. “You’re absolutely despicable and a sorry excuse for a man. You should be ashamed of yourself for cheating on your wife and for playing games with my friend. There’s a special place in hell for assholes like you.” She pulled her hand back and slapped me again, putting her entire weight into the collision. Another slap echoed in the bar, ringing loud in my ears. Everyone around us gasped as she laid it on me good.

My spine tingled as the surging desire washed through me like a goddamn tsunami. I wanted to throw her on the bar and fuck her right then and there. I wanted to pop all the buttons off her shirt and rip her panties in half before I shoved her skirt over her tits. In front of everyone in the bar, I would fuck her until I filled her with so much of my seed she wouldn’t be able to walk without it dripping all over the floor.

All I had to do was grab her wrist and steady her hand so she couldn’t hit me again, but I didn’t. All I had to do was tell her she had the wrong man, but I didn’t do that either. I’d never felt more alive, more aroused, than I did in that moment.

And I never wanted her to stop hitting me.

“Stop!” Her blonde friend came up behind her and grabbed her by the arm. “Not him!”

She didn’t listen to a word her friend said because she shoved me hard in the chest. Like a mountain, I didn’t move. In fact, it made her body thrust backward instead. “Not such a tough guy after all, huh? How about I give your wife a call and tell her your dick has been around the block one too many times?”

I stared at her mouth without really listening to her. When she was pissed, she was even sexier. Her cheeks flushed a beautiful hint of rose, and her eyes were greener than the vines on a hot summer day. I wanted her to stay exactly like this, hitting me like a punching bag until my cock couldn’t stay in my trousers any longer.

She slapped me again, hitting the exact same cheek for a third time in a row. Now I knew my face was beet red and scorching hot. I knew I would have a mark from her handprint for the next few hours until it faded away. “That’s what happens to men who fuck with my best friend.” She pointed her finger in my face like it was somehow threatening. “You actually thought you were going to get away with it—”

“It’s not him!” Her friend screamed loud over the conversations of the bar, making everyone halt and look at her. “Stop hitting him!”

She finally listened to her friend and looked at her, her face immediately slackening with trepidation. “What?”

The man in the black suit was no longer next to me. The second he saw the commotion, he must have noticed his ex and hit the exit. Smart man. He wouldn’t have enjoyed the beating my face had just taken—his loss.

“I told you fifteen times that you had the wrong guy. Dave already left after you slapped this guy the first time.”

Her cheeks turned white, the pale rose color fading away immediately. Her green eyes lost their vibrancy, turning a dull gray that I didn’t find nearly as attractive. Unable to look at me, she kept eye contact with her friend. Humiliation emitted from her in waves that washed over me like the freezing ocean. Self-loathing and hatred were there as well.

She put her hands on her hips and took a few breaths before she finally turned back to me. Her eyes were on the floor, oddly similar to a submissive, before she took another breath and finally found the courage to meet my eyes. “God…I’m so sorry. I thought you were someone else. I…I’m so humiliated.”

I examined her new expression, absorbing all the intricate features I didn’t notice before. She had a freckle in the corner of her mouth, so small and slight I hardly noticed it. Like a distant star deep in space, it contrasted against her fair complexion. My tongue shifted in my mouth, desperate to taste that tiny freckle and explore everything else about her body.

She had a petite little nose, slender and nicely shaped. It fit her beautiful face perfectly, like a renowned artist shaped her features until they were just right. Her eyes were large and bright, shaped like almonds. Her cheeks were prominent and curved, giving her a slender appearance that matched her perfect body. From my height, I could see her cleavage line—only I didn’t look.

When I didn’t say anything, she gave me the same apologetic look, desperate for forgiveness. “I swear, I’m not normally like that. This guy hurt my friend, and I got carried away. I mistook you for him.”