Chapter 3 Bianca #2
“If I go with you, you’ll need to be my date for my parents’ anniversary.”
“I’m a big hit with parents.”
I find that statement dubious. The man looks like walking sin, built for pleasure.
There’s no way any father would like his daughter dating this sex-on-legs beefcake.
The moms… They’re a different story. I could see him being a total winner with anyone with a vagina between her legs.
This man could probably make the deadest womb come alive, begging to be impregnated.
“When’s your party?”
“This Saturday.”
“I think I’m free,” I lie.
I don’t want to admit the sad truth of my life—that I’m free every night. The only thing I had planned this weekend was to finish bingeing my newest guilty pleasure alone on my couch.
“Perfect. It’s a date, but not a date, then. Let me give you my number.”
“For what?” I ask.
“Um.” He laughs softly and shrugs. “In case you have any questions.”
“I can just walk over and ask.”
“I’m not always home, and I want you to be able to get ahold of me if you need to. Just take my number, please.” He’s practically begging, which I like.
“Hold on.” I turn my back, walking to the couch slowly so I don’t seem overeager to have his number. I’ve tried to seem as uninterested as possible since I met him. I thought I was winning until now.
When I turn back around after grabbing my phone, I catch the hottie checking out my ass. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t flattered. I’ve done enough squats to be able to bounce a dime off the damn thing without having any jiggle.
He holds out his hand as I approach. “Let me add my number.” He wiggles his fingers before I hand it to him. “Cute,” he says as he glances down at my screen, which has a picture of a man much like him, all muscles and tattoos and very little clothing.
“Just put your number in.” I lift up on my tiptoes to see what he’s doing, but he’s too damn tall for me to see anything.
After a few quick taps on the screen, the song “Sexy MF” by Prince starts to play from the pocket of his gray sweat pants, and my gaze dips to the sound.
Big mistake.
There’s something about gray sweat pants that shows off every inch of a man. Every fucking delicious inch. Between his bare, muscular chest and whatever he’s packing in those sweats, my body’s reminding me that I am, in fact, very much alive and horny as fuck.
“Now you have my number, and I have yours.” He holds my phone out to me, but I’m too taken by his body to move. Namely the extremely visible outline of his above-average cock.
When I bring my gaze back to his, he’s very much amused by the fact that I was checking out his well-defined package. “Just let me know when and where.” I grimace because that sounded way more sexual than I’d planned, but based on the smirk dancing across his lips, he liked it.
“I’ll pick you up. I’ll text you the time as soon as I double-check with my boss.”
“What should I wear?” I suddenly feel panicked.
“Whatever you want. I’m sure you’re a knockout in anything.”
My face heats, and the dull ache between my legs becomes a full-on throb.
Do not go there, Bianca. He thinks you’re a knockout.
“I’ll let you get back to—” he pauses and looks around me at the television screen “—Scandalous Reign.”
“Wait. You know this show?”
He smirks, and I can’t help but stare at his beautiful full lips. “I binged it last month.”
I narrow my eyes, and I wonder, who is this man? No one I know watches this show besides chicks—and, typically, only lonely ones like me.
“I get it,” I say, all the pieces finally clicking together. “You’re gay and need a female date.”
He staggers backward like I punched him in the gut. “What? No. Why would you think that?” He’s looking at me like I have two heads, but it’s the only thing that makes logical sense to me.
A guy like Vinnie could have any woman on his arm. There’s probably a line of bimbos waiting outside right now, wanting a ride on the Vinnie pleasure train. Instead, he’s at my door, the door of a complete stranger, begging me to go to his company’s dinner? So weird.
“Guys don’t usually watch this show, and you don’t need to ask a stranger on a date.”
“My mother and sister got me into that show.” He blushes, and it’s so completely adorable, I nearly go weak in the knees. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for a good romance.”
“So, you’re straight?” I blurt out because I need to hear the words again. Part of me wishes he’d say he’s gay because having a neighbor this hot during my self-imposed celibacy period is bad.
His stare intensifies, and I swear to fuck, his cock twitches in his pants, but I don’t dare look down, so I only see the movement in my peripheral vision. “I’m as straight as they come. I’m all man, baby.”
“I have to go.” I need to get away from him.
Away from his big, rippling muscles.
Away from his magical, jumping cock.
And away from the half-naked body I’ll be thinking about when I touch myself later.
“I’ll text you,” he says with a quick chin lift.
I nod but don’t speak.
I can’t.
There’s nothing I can say that won’t come out sounding all wanton and horny. My body’s buzzing, my pussy is begging for action, and I know I’m fucked—and not in the way Princess Viktoria is about to be on my new favorite television show.
He just stands there, watching me with those piercing green eyes as I close the door.
“Well,” I say into the emptiness of my loft, knowing what’s about to come out of my mouth is a partial truth. “Thanks, universe. You’ve fucked me.”