14. Vanessa
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
VANESSA
After the chaotic events of the night before, I’m a mixed bag of emotions.
On the one hand, I’m glad Boden got put in his place. As harsh as it was, it was necessary. My ex wasn’t taking the hint, and the word no doesn’t do shit to deter him—at least not when it comes from me.
On the other hand, I’m stressing over the new conundrum that has steamrolled into my life.
Entering a new relationship after ending things with Boden was not on my agenda—not a damn thought.
I was fine being single, fine living my life on my own terms. Sure, I was lonely, but I kept busy to combat my loneliness.
Cupid came out of nowhere. He stalked me, broke into my apartment, and scared the hell out of me. Not to mention, he choked my ex, shoved my underwear down his throat, and finished him by breaking his nose.
And what was my response to all the red flags decorating this man like a dust ruffle?
I sleep with him. Rode him so damn hard, I can still feel the indent he left inside of me today.
What the hell is wrong with my head to forgo all the disturbing actions Cupid demonstrated and jump into bed with him?
Convinced there was something not right with me, I searched through several of my psychology textbooks until dawn, attempting to self-diagnose myself with anything to explain away my irrational behavior.
Turns out, there’s nothing wrong with me—I’m just a horny bitch. And apparently, Cupid is the cure to sate my inner slutdom.
To make matters worse, Cupid believes I’m his woman. He clarified he wasn’t my rebound, nor was he hitting it and quitting it, meaning I am now romantically tied to a man I know nothing about other than he’s the president of the Royal Bastards MC Loveland chapter and his legal name is Elio Amor.
Okay, that’s not entirely true. I know a little more about him. I know he’s extremely possessive of me, he’s willing to break several laws to get what he wants, and he’s phenomenal in bed.
When he sent me a Good morning, Butterfly text, I stared at it for a solid few minutes, not truly believing what I was reading. Something about the simple gesture made me pause.
Sure, guys have texted me complimentary hellos before, but usually they’re overzealous in affection or followed by a dick picture. But Cupid’s was simply…sweet.
Unsure what to respond with, I ignored it.
As hopeful as my little heart was that what we have could grow into something substantial, my brain kept reminding me to be cautious, to think rationally for my future, and to pick up Plan B at the pharmacy on the way to lecture.
I had a long day ahead of me, and I couldn’t let thoughts of Cupid cloud my judgment.
Fate was working against me, though. Dwelling on Cupid had me running behind, and I decided to pick up the emergency birth control after my hours interning at the counseling center before work. A few hours later wouldn’t hurt—I hope.
Throughout my lectures and hours interning at the counseling center, Cupid would send me other brief texts.
Most were cute…
I miss you already. Can’t wait to see you.
I’m sleeping at your place tonight. I need to hold you.
Can’t wait to see your pretty face again and get lost in your hazel eyes.
…and others were downright filthy to the point my underwear was saturated.
I’m hungry. Can I eat you out again?
Your pussy was so tight. I can still feel you clenching around my cock.
My dick is so hard thinking about you.
When I hadn’t replied to a single text from him, Cupid fired off a warning text as I finished my hours at my internship for the day.
Stop ignoring me, Psyche. I can see your read receipts.
Well shit. I curse my stupidity for not turning off my read receipts when I had the chance.
My fingers hover over my cell’s keyboard, unsure how I should reply as I walk to my shift at the deli. I carefully draft a text, reading it over half a dozen times before hitting send.
Sorry for not responding sooner. It’s been a busy day and you keep distracting me.
He reads my message immediately. The dancing dots bounce on my screen when he types his reply.
Distracting how? Good? Bad?
I reply right as I’m passing the drugstore a block away from the deli.
Both. I’m trying to focus and you keep sending me sweet and dirty nothings.
He replies.
Not nothings. All promises. Are you wet from reading my messages?
I blush reading his text, gnawing on my lower lip. Part of me wants to ignore him, but I think that will throw him over the edge after having finally caved to responding to him. Another part wants to be honest. Maybe then he’d understand how distracting his messages are for me.
I decide to be candid with my response.
Soaked.
Something inside my core tightens, like I can hear him groaning all the way in Loveland and it’s telepathically connected to my clit.
Fuck, Butterfly. Send me pictures.
Giggling like a schoolgirl flirting with her crush, I walk into Deli Delights and head to the back of the restaurant where there is a small locker room we have to store our belongings. I shove my backpack into my locker cubby before replying to him.
Absolutely not.
PLEASE. My cock is begging you.
Sounds like a you problem.
Vanessa…
I imagine he’s pacing like a wild animal in a cage, staring at his cell like he can conjure an image of me to grace his screen.
Couldn’t even if I wanted to. I’m at work. I need to get behind the counter before my manager chews my ass out.
He best not touch your ass! It’s mine.
Ew! Not like that. George would never. I need to go.
I’ll see you tonight.
Giddy, I bound behind the counter, ignoring the way my coworkers are looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“What’s up with her?” one of them asks the others with alarm.
“No clue,” my other coworker responds, looking equally perplexed.
“It’s not like her to be this…happy. Something is up.”
“Maybe one of the pod aliens stole her body and is impersonating her as a cover.”
“Maybe she finally snapped her ex’s dick off and fed it to him—she looks like the type of woman who takes notes from listening to true crime podcasts.”
“Or maybe I got laid good last night by a hot stranger and plan on repeating it tonight,” I say unabashed, setting them all straight.
My coworkers freeze, their mouths dropping open in utter shock.
The customer standing across the deli counter—a little old lady in a floral headscarf—gives me a big thumbs up. “Way to go, dear. Enjoy it while you can.”
“What’s all the gossiping about?” George asks, stepping out of his office to see why we’re all standing around not working.
The elderly lady points at me with a big smile. “She got laid. Isn’t it great?”
George palms his forehead. “Vanessa! No talking about your sex life while serving the customers.”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” the old lady says sweetly. “I enjoy hearing about it. It’s nearly as good as the spicy books my granddaughter gifts me. The juicier, the better.”
She winks at George, making him stammer on the spot.
“Now, tell me about this stranger, dear,” my new favorite elderly lady says. “Was he gifted below? Please tell me he was hung like a horse.”
George looks a little green, spinning on his heels to flee back into his office. My other coworkers scramble, shoving their earpods in their ears as if they can drown out our conversation as they busy themselves behind the counter.
“Super gifted,” I answer, eager to share my story with someone. She may be ancient, but she’s a girl at heart. “And pierced.”
“Oh, my word.” The little old lady fans her face with her hand. “Better leave my sandwich cold instead of toasting it. I’m heated enough as is.”
Laughing to myself, I get to work on filling her order and completely forget what I promised my brain I would pick up from the pharmacy.