Page 22 of The Worst Guy Ever
Hottie:Same way you got my number dickhead
I punch her details into my banking app and lie in the dark, counting down the final minutes of the month. If I’m stuck obsessing over her, then I sure as shit want her lying in her bed thinking about me too. As soon as midnight hits, I transfer her winnings with the payment reference‘for your pleasure’.
Two days later, I’m wolfing down a sandwich at my desk, catching up on typing patient notes when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and see a photo notification from Hattie. My dick twitches instantly, desperately hoping she’s sent me another picture of herself but when I open it up my excitement turns to confusion, then fury, then that hard ache that I never seem to be able to get rid of where she’s involved.
There on her bed, nestled between crumpled sheets, lies a bright pink vibrator. A wide V shape, it’s long with a thick bulb on one side and one of those clit sucker bits on the other.
Hottie:Just arrived. Thanks for the best orgasm of my life.
My brain turns to mush when I zoom in. It’s shiny, glistening. Has it just been inside her? Is that what she’s doing right now? Is she seriously in bed, getting herself off in the middle of the day and taunting me with the evidence.
The fucking tease.
I don’t know what to say, don’t know what to think. Instead, I lock my phone in my drawer and leave her on read. I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing how much she’s wound me up.
I spend my day half hard, and head straight home into the shower, stroking myself off at the thought of her naked on her bed. No, even better, spread out onmybed. That toy buried inside her, writhing underneath me, grabbing fistfuls of sheets.
This woman is making me lose my mind, and the only thing I know for sure is that I’ll die a very unhappy man if I don’t get to make these fantasies come true.
Chapter 8
Rob
Hattiehasn’ttextedmeall week. Now the bet is over, I’m struggling to come up with excuses to text her and it’s ridiculous how much I miss our chats.
I torture myself by reading back through all the messages we’ve exchanged over the past few weeks. She’s so fun and flirty, even when she’s insulting me, I can’t get enough of it. I’ve zoomed in on that photo of her in her bra so many times I might wear a hole in the screen. The vibrator one is even worse.
By Friday, I cave.
Me:Want to meet up tonight?
Hottie:Why?
Me:Bet’s over, we can finally have our way with each other
Hottie:Rob, get this into your head. I took your bet because it was easy money. I don’t want to hook up with you. Ever.
Me:Liar
She doesn’t reply, and I don’t believe her. I’ve seen the way her body reacts when I’m around, and I’ve been with enough women to know what it looks like when I’m turning them on. I’m an easy mark, I know we’d have a good time. Why doesn’t she want this?
I didn’t hook up with anyone while I focused on winning Hattie over and this month-long foreplay has me losing my mind. It’s rare for me to go that long without sex, and my dick has spent more time with my hand than it has since my teenage years.
I can’t take it anymore. A man has needs, and I don’t owe her shit. If Hattie isn’t interested, there are plenty of other women who are.
She’s beautiful. This petite brunette standing in front of me, throwing her head back in laughter at god knows what. I’ve already forgotten what I said and I sure as hell couldn’t tell you anything she’s said tonight. This isn’t like me, I’m never this much of a bastard.
I down my pint and set it on the bar. I’m about to make some excuse and apologise for wasting her time when she lays her small hand on my bicep and looks up at me through her long, dark eyelashes.
“What do you think about heading back to mine?”
It all happens fast, and I usually prefer to take my time. I kiss her in her hallway, grip her legs and lift her to wrap them around my waist like I know women love, but she’s slippery in my arms, the fabric of her dress hard to keep hold of. I feel clumsy and out of control, so I pull it up over her head and the next thing I know, everything is off and we’re naked on her bed.
I let her bounce on top of me for a while, but I can’t enjoy the view. Instead, I close my eyes and wonder what Hattie would feel like on top of me. I bet she’d feel soft and firm all at once, and I’d be in heaven letting her take all her anger out on me.
The brunette moans and whips her hair around as she rolls her hips. She’s hot, she knows she’s hot, but she’s trying too hard. Performing to make it good for me and I don’t have the heart to tell her she’ll never be what I need right now.
This isn’t normal.
