Page 5 of Wicked Attraction

I pulled up my pants and tucked my cock inside, righting my clothes with purpose. I pulled out three one hundred dollar bills and handed them to Mo.

“You can clean up in my bathroom, then get back to work.”

Mo froze for a second and pushed off the desk until she was on her feet. Then, she took the money and disappeared into the bathroom inside the office.

With the smell of sex still on my fingers and my cock, I picked up my drink and got back to work.

CHAPTERTWO

Mo

Just another meaningless fuck.

I had nothing against meaningless sex, nothing at all. A good cock was hard to find, and when you fucked for money the way I did, it was all just a fucking numbers game. But, when it came to Jasper Ashby, I had a big ass blind spot.

I had an endless well of hope that one day Jasper would love me the way I loved him. That he would just wake up one day and realize the girl his mother had saved from the clutches of Ronan and Brendan Rhymer was the woman he’d been waiting for his whole fucking life.

“Ha!” Fat fucking chance of that happening. I knew that, just like I knew by that look in his green eyes, all he wanted from me was a distraction.

Sadie got shot and had been in a coma for two weeks. He was stressed, angry, hurt, and probably carried a ton of guilt on his broad shoulders. And lovesick fool I was, I rushed in eagerly to make him feel better. Even if it was only for a little while.

I splashed cold water on my face and shook my limbs until the disappointment was gone. I shook them out until my steps were solid as I left the bathroom and stopped inside Jasper’s office.

He was on the phone and didn’t bother to look up at me, so I pushed my shoulders back and walked out of the office with my head held high.

Well, fuck him and the horse he rode in on.

Yeah, I didn’t believe that, but it was what I told myself every time he dismissed me so quickly. That was what it took to show up every day for my shift at Midnight Mass, looking at Jasper’s beautiful face and seeing nothing but indifference.

One fuck wouldn’t change that. Wouldn’t change him, and the truth was, I didn’t want him to change.

Jasper was so fucking hot with his thick brown hair, so commanding that not even one hair would dare fall out of place. His dark green eyes had just enough gold flecks in them to lighten up that scowl he wore like a uniform.

And it didn’t hurt that he was as big as a football player, muscular and solid. That whole uptight king-of-the-world thing he had going on was also a major fucking turn-on. Not to mention the ruthless streak he had that made everyone fear him.

Not me, though. I wasn’t afraid of Jasper because I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, not physically anyway.

Truth be told, he didn’t know he crushed me with every bland look, every time he ignored me or dismissed me. Or when he took the Benjamins out of his pocket to pay me for a quick fuck.

No, Jasper didn’t hurt me on purpose. He was aloof as fuck ninety percent of the time. The other ten percent? He had a mean streak a mile wide that he used to cover up his real feelings, and each time he covered them up, I convinced myself what he was covering up was feelings for me.

Un-fucking-likely.

He didn’t even know how I felt because I was too chicken shit to tell him, so we played this one-sided game where we flirted and bantered back and forth. Tonight I got to fuck him, and my punishment was that I pretended like that was all I wanted. I acted like it was good enough for me.

I told myself I was tired of men who used their manhood to hide how they really felt, but whenever Jasper needed me, I was there.

Love was fucking stupid.

But apparently, those wise old dudes were right. I couldn’t help who I loved. I also couldn’t change how they felt, so I returned to work just as the bartender announced the last call.

“Another round of shots?” A group of tourists smiled up at me, or rather my tits, and nodded eagerly.

“Some of that Velvet Fire, love. It’s fuckin’ delicious. And one for yourself.”

“Thanks, boys. Comin’ right up.” I flitted around from table to table, booth to booth, until everyone was more tipsy than sober, a little lighter in their pockets and all smiles as I poured them into Ubers and Lyfts and cars with loving, designated drivers.

“You sure I can’t convince ya to give me your number, beautiful?” The redheaded Irishman had decided to give it one last shot. Even if I didn’t smell like Jasper or have him on my brain, I wouldn’t have gone with him.

---