Page 30 of Our Shattered Pieces
Though I’ve never tried it before, I knew I wasn’t the kind of man who could share. Having had a few monogamous relationships in my life, I knew enough to know that possessiveness was a real thing with me. Was I volatile like Gage was over Mystic? No. Was I obsessed like Lorcan was over Rowan? No. But then, I’ve never been in love, so I honestly had no idea what that particular emotion might bring out in me, but I did know that what’s mine was mine.
Women included.
Especially, women.
As I went in search of Molly Cavanaugh on this site, I was quickly coming to realize that I was slightly bothered by knowing she was on this site. I didn’t like the idea of her searching for satisfaction with someone who wasn’t me. Did that make me a hypocrite since I’ve slept with two other women since the night of the wedding? Maybe. Probably. But I wasn’t the one who had ended the night without any hope of something more. I had let Molly call the shots, and she had called them.
Now that I had a profile, the site introduced me to another million options and laid out about a thousand rules and regulations. Pictures were a no for safety purposes, and if you got even one investigative complaint, you were kicked off the site. Ques?tionable.com prided itself on making sure you could explore your sexual preferences safely and comfortably. The site was designed to weed out predators, and I had to admire that.
So, after creating my profile, I spent the next couple of hours selecting my specifications, hoping they would magically send me straight into Molly’s matches. Of course, I had no idea what her profile name was, so I had no idea how I was going to be able to identify her, but I knew where I needed to start.
JustEnoughKink.
I typed in his profile name, and I had to laugh at how I was on a site that catered to every sexual kink imaginable, but I was still assuming JustEnoughKink was a man. It could be a woman for all I knew. Maybe that’s what had been missing from my night with Molly. Maybe she was into women. Now, I found that a little hard to believe with the way she came all over me, but maybe she liked both. Maybe she liked the soft feel of a woman next to her while she was taking dick. Who knows?
But as his profile came up, it stated that he was a man. And though it didn’t tell me much else, besides the basics, his recent matches were listed on his profile.
Jackpot.
As I read the names off, I mentally dissected through them, wondering which one was most likely to be Molly. There was YourDirtyGirl, but that seemed too unoriginal. There was MakeMeDirty, and that one seemed rather unoriginal, too. There was FuckMeHard, and that seemed rather aggressive for Molly Cavanaugh. Though the woman was on this site, Molly Cavanaugh was all class outside the bedroom. So, that left SearchingForPossibilities, and that could only be Molly.
I typed in her profile name, and like I starving man, I ate up everything her profile could tell me about her and what she liked in bed.
And fuck me running.
Stalking her profile, she liked tall, dark, and handsome, which I never thought about my looks much, but I wasn’t blonde, and I was six-foot-one, which would make me tall in comparison to her short, petite frame. She didn’t care about employment as long as you were employed, and I liked that. With as wealthy as she and her family were, it would be easy for Molly to be a snob, but she wasn’t. She was just looking for a man who wasn’t a complete loser and freeloader, and I understood that. With the kind of money she had, she had to protect herself from dating men who just wanted access to that money.
Once I got past the basics, I delved into the sexual specifications of her profile, and it took everything I had not to pull my dick out and rub one out to what the woman had listed as her preferences.
Molly-and I prayed to God it was Molly-like to be debased.
It read that she liked to be called names. It read that she liked to be used. It read that she liked it rough and dirty. It read that she liked to be marked.
It read like all my fucking dreams come true.
And the fact that Molly was all class outside the bedroom made the idea of dirtying her up that must more potent. No one could know that the woman who worked with charities, dressed like a model, walked with the grace of a queen, and spoke with the vocabulary of higher learning loved being called a dirty whore in the sheets. To be the man who got to see her like that was a worthy accomplishment, for sure.
Hoping against all hope that I was right, and SearchingForPossibilities was Molly, I fired off a message from my profile to hers. I wasn’t going to lie to her or lead her on. If she responded, I had every intention of telling her who I was and how I found her. Would she get pissed? Probably. But I wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip through my fingers.
Finding a woman, who I could let go with, was a dream come true. But if that woman could be Molly Cavanaugh, then that would be a life of limitless possibilities, and I wasn’t about to pass that up.
Chapter 23
Molly~
My feet were killing me, and with the Calgary Scholarship Foundation’s fundraising event tomorrow, I was running on fumes.
The funny thing about the events I put on, people often mistook the reason I was always in attendance. A lot of people wanted to mingle with me because they thought I was there as a Cavanaugh, and as not to offend anyone, I was constantly juggling being Molly Cavanaugh and being the event’s coordinator. As rewarding as the results always were, some nights I just wanted to get stupid drunk.
With a glass of wine in hand, I went into my home office and opened my laptop to put out any last-minute possible fires. In fact, I’ve been so busy with the fundraiser, I’ve pretty much ignored everything else, including the new notifications from Ques?ionable.com.
But there was also the fact that, after the night of message exchanges with JustEnoughKink, I didn’t think I needed to check out any more matches. JustEnoughKink seemed like the real deal and someone I could probably feel comfortable moving forward with. I hadn’t given him any personal information, like my email or phone number yet, but I was hopeful.
When I was satisfied that everything was ready for tomorrow night, I shut my laptop down and went back into the kitchen for another glass of wine. Ready to relax and unwind before tomorrow’s fundraiser chaos ensued, I turned on the television and got comfortable on the couch. And not really caring what was playing, I pulled out my phone to check if any of those incoming messages had been from JustEnoughKink.
Two of them were from JustEnoughKink.
One was not.
