Page 25 of Tips and Trysts

“What are you talking about?”

“Tell me to destroy him and I will. I have a lot of money and determination. Do you want him to suffer? Say the word. I’ll take care of it.”

“I don’t care about revenge. I’m still stuck on you wanting to…”

“To fuck you,” he fills in, nodding. “Go on. You can say it. Might want to get used to saying it because it’s going to happen.”

“Unlikely,” I counter, working hard not to look at his smug expression. “You said it when we met: I’m a camgirl, and you’re a politician. How would this even work?”

“Any two people can fuck each other. We could just have fun.” And then Everett’s smirk transforms into a smile, and bar none, it’s the most captivating smile I’ve ever seen.

“Fun?” I question, narrowing my eyes because—holy shit—looking at his smile is like looking into the sun. “Contrary to my bad judgment last night, I have standards. I’m not going to fuck a man who disrespected me and my career, and I’m not going to lower my standards for the honor of fucking you.”

“Alright.” Everett reclines in his chair. “So I’m clear: The reason you won’t fuck me is because you’re a camgirl. Am I understanding correctly?”

“The reason I won’t is because of you. Look me in the eye and tell me you’re comfortable with what I do.” I rest against my pillows once more. “If you want any part of me, you take all of me. You don’t just get to have a pussy. When you fuck me, you’re fucking an entire woman.”

His eyebrow cants. “Well, that sounds like an invitation for anal.”

“Grow up,” I reply, flipping him off. “And tell me you can handle my career.”

He thinks about it—aboutsomething. He breathes out. “Look,” he says, “what I’d like to be clear about is the difference between my opinions and reality. You being a camgirl doesn’t offend me. Sex work doesn’t offend me. I’m just realistic that most people…”

Sex work offends most people—i.e. mostvoters.

“So, it’s not a ‘you’ problem. It’s a constituent problem. You don’t care if other men watch me.Payme.”

“Well,” he begins, “to be clear, I’ve still never watched you.”

I knew it. “Sounds to me like you’ve jumped the…” I trail off. “…you know.”

He bobs his chin. “Do you want me to watch you stream? Tell me. I’m good at following directions. I’ll pay any price. Whatever it takes.”

Whatever it takes.

He’s reclining in his chair with his ankle resting on the opposite knee and his arm balanced on the armrest, looking at ease. His gaze drifts, surveying me. It’s…a lot.

We can’t fuck each other. Even if he did everything I asked, we’d still be Cora and Everett: a camgirl and a budding politician. It’d be a disaster. In hundreds of years, when someone masters time travel, Everett and me fucking would probably be on the shortlist of events to stop.

I exhale, trying to alleviate the tightness in my shoulders, but the tension mirrors the tug in my gut. “Whatever it takes?” The sentence starts out soft, but I find my voice on the third word.

If he noticed my reaction, he doesn’t show it. He merely nods.

“It’s a high price,” I continue, swallowing now. The lump in my throat makes it audible—to me at least.

“I’ll pay it,” he answers without missing a beat.

The reaction is involuntary. The flutter in my stomach, the uptick in my heart rate—they’re beyond my control. My brainknows this guy just wants my body. My body doesn’t care. I shouldn’t fuck him. I know I shouldn’t.

But the thing is…I really want to fuck him. He’s gorgeous and confident, he kisses like the devil, and he stares like he can’t decide between hate-fucking me or making me choke on my insults.

I’d willingly take either.

Still, I’m Cora fucking Flores, I’m a catch, and I don’t tolerate undeserving men.

“If you want me, you have to earn it.”

“Name it,” he practically orders before ticking his fingers in a subtle come-hither gesture that’s almost hot enough for me to fold like a lawn chair and spread myself on the bed in front of him. But again: I’m Cora fucking Flores—etcetera, etcetera.

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