14. CHAPTER TEN
Gemma7: Hot Meaningless Dirty Hook-Ups Only
“What in fuck’s sake?” I glare at Jillian’s profile on the City Sinners dating app. Balor worked his magic allowing me access to her entire phone.
And that profile photo she posted.
Fucking Christ…
Her face is hidden, just cropped above the lips. But that fuckable mouth is visible. She’s wearing a short, pale-pink, low-cut dress with her tits practically hanging out. It’s all cleavage! I assume this is from a girls’ night out. I insert her beautiful face from my memory and get chills. This picture has my mouth watering. She looks fucking fuckable. I want her to wear that dress for me with no underwear so I can lift it and fuck her from behind.
Ding.
Ding.
Ding.
Ding.
Men on this app are tripping over themselves to match with Gemma7.
My Jillian.
My diamond in the rough.
Diamond. Sparkles… She sparkled for me.
I close my eyes and brace against the bathroom vanity, imagining us having the kind of rough sex that shows off more of my skills. Since I had to stick around Vegas, I moved my arse into Darragh’s Charter Hotel villa on the strip.
Ding.
Ding.
Ding.
Ding.
Ding.
Ding.
Ding.
Ding.
Delete
Delete
Delete
Delete
Delete
Delete
Delete
Delete
Delete
Delete
Delete
Delete
I have to stop people from responding to this profile. I fumble with the settings and blow out a breath of sweet relief seeing a block feature.
BLOCK ALL RESPONSES
I toggle this on and smile.
My heart pounds as I stare at myself in the mirror of one of Darragh’s guest bathrooms. A towel slung low on my waist, I walk into the bedroom and get dressed. We all dropped everything and got on Kieran’s plane to Seattle last Thursday, but knowing I’d end up bringing Cormac back here for his court case, I snagged a suit. One suit.
I need more clothes. Killer threads that will make Jillian’s mouth water again looking at me.
Tapping my phone, I call my old Harvard housemate who practices in L.A.
“Eoghan O’Rourke,” Lincoln Stone answers with that old-money, New England accent.
“Lincoln Stone, Esquire.” I get right to the point. “I need a dozen suits. Don’t have time to have them made. Can you hook me up?”
“Where are you?”
“Vegas.”
“How soon can you get to L.A.?”
I check my watch. “Can you send a helicopter for me?”
“I’m not that rich,” he snaps, even though he is.
We have a plane and a luxury helicopter. All modes that are not at my disposal right now because I’m here and not in Astoria where I should be.
I should go home, but now I can’t. Not when I can’t get Jillian out of my head, all while her idea of a sex hangover is to get on a dating app and ask for more sex!
I glance at the City Sinners app again, and my stomach begins to settle when no more matches show up. Jillian can check her settings at any time, see the BLOCK feature, and swipe it off.
I can delete the app altogether.
I’llgive her hot, dirty, meaningless hookups. Only, they won’t be meaningless.
She’s mine. And no one touches what’s mine.
“All right, Linc. Give me a few hours. I’ve always wanted to take that drive through the desert.” And hand over a rental car with thousands of additional miles on it like the brat I am.
The two days it will take to drive back and forth will give me a chance to get out my head before I do something stupid like break into Jillian’s house while she’s not home and sniff her panties.