Page 25 of Lorcan's Obsession

You’re going to be a goddamn CEO, Lorcan, my one lone brain cell screeched. Don’t fuck a lady in a public elevator!

I fisted her hair and pulled until she looked up at me. "I'm getting hard again. We can't do that here, baby."

Standing up, she hugged herself tightly while moving away from me.

"I-I should go,” she said in a shaky voice.

"Are you sure you don't want to go back to my apartment?" I murmured.

Tristen nodded, eyes fixed on the gold-flecked black marble tiles. She was shutting off, slipping back into the role she knew how to play. Our stolen moments of honesty had unnerved her, and now she wanted nothing more than to disappear.

Tipping her chin in reassurance, I leaned in close. "I'll always respect your wishes. You should know that.”

She nodded against my fingertips in understanding. Reluctantly, I let her go. We’d been lucky as it was not to be found. I typed the elevator codes to release the doors and stepped outside. "See you Tuesday?"

"Yeah," she answered softly before the doors severed the budding connection between us.

9

BREASTFRIENDS

Iwas out of my fucking depth.

After three weeks of obsessing about Tristen and then meeting her on two separate occasions, I was confident that there was much more to this woman than what she presented to the world. And I was counting the hours until I could see her again.

First things first, the colossal fuck up that happened in my bedroom today needed to be fixed. But where do I begin when I still have no fucking clue what I did wrong?

Nothing about chasing Tristen had been as I’d expected. Her friend advised me to take it slow, but Tristen showed me she wanted it fast. She orgasmed and said it had no effect on her. Our interaction today made me feel lost and out of my element. If this had been about railing her and never seeing her again, we would have already fucked. There was something else going on, and I needed to figure it out. I wasn’t going to give up that easily.

I needed to confer with my brothers-in-arms, my BREASTFRIENDS: Keaton, Bradley, and Ashton. They were my most trusted confidantes. If anyone could help me score a touchdown with Tristen, it would be them.

BREASTFRIENDS.

Me: SOS. Wake up people.

Ashton: *wave emoji*

Ash and I have been buds since our "wheels on the bus" days. Our parents carpooled us in Rolls-Royce and got us matching Lambos when we turned sixteen. All his life, Ash had a sweet tooth that saw him build entire walls of candy in his apartment, but nowadays, that devotion is split fifty-fifty between any female with icy blonde hair and Twizzlers.

Keaton: Sup. How's Dubai?

Keaton was my college tutor. He had been the silent voice that whispered, "You are not a quitter," and it was at his suggestion that I went for a dyslexia assessment. That revelation had been life-changing, and so was our friendship. He became my chosen family. Keaton always brought a different perspective to the table, which I appreciated.

Me: As good as can be. I need you guys to help me solve a crisis. Where's Brad?

Ashton: I'm in a game can ur problem wait

Me: No, it can't. Call Brad's home phone. I need his input too.

Brad is typing...

Brad: Dipshit, you owe me a blowjob! I had to send the girl away with full pay. This better be important.

That text right there. If Ash and I were playboys, Brad was a manwhore. But as the only heir to a petroleum empire he didn't give a fuck about, his lifestyle choices made for great story time.

Keaton: Lorcan, take 5. Brad, why is the self-proclaimed king of pussy using paid services? You said women crawled to you after one look.

Brad: I'm supporting the economy and sending beautiful girls to college. I'm a tru fan. Spreading good around the world.

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