Page 3 of Mr. Wicked

Easton studied me as if he were looking through a microscope and my face was on the other side of the glass. “You didn’t even bother looking at her name.”

He wasn’t questioning me—he was judging me.

Teasing me.

They both were.

“Listen, motherfuckers, I was too busy looking at her lips.” As I thought about her mouth, my exhale sounded like air hissing out of a tire. “Sue me for being distracted.”

“Here’s what I can’t figure out,” Easton said, clasping my shoulder as though he wanted to be sure I was listening. “We own the largest hook-up app in the country. Why are you out here looking when you don’t have to?”

I could understand why he questioned my choice.

Years ago, while in graduate school at Harvard, the three of us had been in the middle of a bitch session, groaning about fishing, when the idea of Hooked was born—an app that would completely eliminate the need to fish. Since its launch, Hooked took only the completion of a psychological test and a few swipes of a finger before the user was paired with someone sexually compatible.

But the explosion of our business, the popularity the three of us had gained, was a problem we hadn’t foreseen.

We were celebrities in Boston.

So the days of matching with random women weren’t like they used to be.

“Out of the last three women I hooked with, all of them immediately recognized me. One asked if she could live stream our kiss on fucking Instagram. Another asked for a second date, even though I bailed on the first date the minute she asked for my autograph.” I pounded my fist on the table. “My goddamn autograph, can you believe that shit? And the third woman, while I was taking her clothes off, said she wanted me to be her baby daddy and told me not to wear a condom.”

That was why I’d returned to this method, in hopes that the women I met out in the wild, like Jovana, didn’t know who the hell I was.

Wouldn’t want to live stream our kiss or ask for my firstborn or want me to sign across her tits with a permanent marker.

Fuck no to all that.

“So, did you wear a condom?” Holden asked, grinning.

“You’re serious?” I stared at my boy like he had three heads. “You think I’d actually fuck her after she said that? Hell no.” I wanted to reach for my drink, but it hadn’t been delivered, so I slid my hand through the side of my hair. “Hooked worked when we were nobodies. Now that I’m a somebody in this city, I can’t take the chance.” I got to the end of my strands and started over, raking just to keep my hand busy. “Don’t get me wrong, I love the success, and once we launch internationally it’s going to get even wilder, but as far as hooking up through Hooked goes, I miss the old days.”

“You know what I find hilarious?” A sly smile lifted across Easton’s lips. “You were the inventor of the marriage arm of our app. A guy who can’t even fathom a second date, never mind a lifelong commitment. Out of all people, it was you. Now, how’s that for irony?”

When we were brainstorming ways to grow our business, I came up with the idea of a new division. The marriage arm was designed for users looking for long-term commitments that would eventually lead to marriage—as opposed to only hooking up—where they could hook with other like-minded users. Once that arm was established, Holden came up with the same concept for single parents and people open to dating other single parents.

Every new user had to choose which arm they wanted when they first joined the app, and as their needs changed, they could move between arms.

As owners, we just wanted to ensure that we were catering to everyone.

But ultimately, each arm added users, which then expanded memberships and, in return, increased revenue.

“Listen, fellas, I created a pathway to cultivate people’s happiness,” I told them. “That doesn’t mean I have to practice what I invent or even believe in it. Marriage isn’t for me, but it’s for you”—I used my chin to point toward Easton, and then shifted to do the same to Holden—“and probably you too.” I looked away to scan the room, finding Jovana at the bar. She was putting our drinks on a tray, preparing to carry them over, pointing her ass in my direction. The tightness of those heart-shaped cheeks. The way she was bent over, like she was positioned for doggy style. It all made my cock throb even harder. “What’s going to go down tonight with that one ...” My voice trailed off as she turned around, her nipples hard and showing through her tank, like my tongue had just left them. “Shit, it’s going to be epic.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Holden said.

With each step, I surveyed her body as if it were the first time I was seeing her.

And now that I was getting a better look, I was even more confident in my analysis.

Jovana was fucking perfect.

What I wouldn’t do to wrap that long hair around my wrist and tilt her neck back. To drag my tongue up her throat, tasting her scent, right before I turned her around and pulled her shorts down.

To check her wetness and make sure she was ready for my dick.

But aside from her perfection and adorable personality, there was something about this woman that gave me a raging hard-on.

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