Page 17 of Irredeemable

It's a stupid fucking joke, but it works like a charm. He preens, his touch becoming more sensual as if he wanted to live up to the fantasy.

His hand cups the back of my thigh, pulling me till my ass meets the edge of the seat. “Spread your legs, pretty girl.”

He moves to kneel on the car floor in front of me. His bodyguards say silently upfront. I'm not afraid of an audience, but I could tell by their reaction that this was common.

Steeling myself, I have to do this. I need to be sure I can have a normal sexual experience without manipulation or research. Just a single hot man interested me, and vice versa. I can fuck a single man if I want to. Even if he was going overboard with the pet names.

Unbuttoning my pants, I lift my hips and pull them off with my underwear. The handsome stranger tosses them on the seat next to me, grabbing my knees and pressing them toward my chest.

“Guarda che bella figa,”he whispers, using one hand to open my pussy up for him to see.

Gasping when he pushes his finger inside me, I grab my knees to hold for him. “English, please.”

He smirks, pulling his finger out and resting his hands right above my ass. He uses his thumbs to keep my pussy open as he leans forward, pressing his face into my sex. My head slams back as his talented tongue works on me. If this is a teaser of how the night is going, then I fucking scored on my impromptu pick-up.

“I need something inside me,” I moan.

He shifts his hand. His tongue is still licking before his lips seal around my clit and sucking as he pumps his fingers in me. He’s slurping at my pussy as if it’s his favorite meal, and I moan, my nails digging into my own skin. I have never enjoyed oral sex, but he is quickly making me a fan.

Rubbing my exhausted eyes, I reach over to the sleeping form next to me. The continuous buzzing was killing my head. I squint at the screen as I turn down the brightness enough that it’s not blinding me. My semi-sober brain takes a second to process. It's not my phone, but the mystery man's from last night. The spew of missed calls and text messages has my stomach sinking as I read through them unremorsefully.

Careful not to disturb him, I walk around the bed and look at the hand hanging off the mattress. The bare ring finger didn’t even have an indent or tan line, which meant either he had a habit of slipping it off or this was a fairly new arrangement.

My eyes sting, and I try to control my breathing. The whole point of this trip and this spontaneous one-night stand has been ripped away from me. I felt sick, repulsion for him and myself moving like sludge through my veins. It makes me angry, it makes me want to throw away one of my rules and say to hell with it all. I obviously can’t get away from who I am.

The phone in my hand starts to buzz again, and I watch as the nameMariellascrolls across the screen. I stare at it, waiting for the call to go to voicemail again. Each ticking second fanning the flames for retribution.

Once it finally silences, I crawl slowly back into the bed, tugging the sheet to cover my bare breasts. Positioning the camera so we’re both in the frame, I take a selfie, staring at the lens impassively. Double checking it’s clear who the man is, I send it toMariellawith another text apologizing for spending the night with her husband and dropping the location so she knows where she can currently find him.

After I see it’s delivered, I dress quickly, place his phone on the table next to the front door, and leave. Calling Jasmine, I book the next flight back home and cure my hangover with more alcohol in the first-class lounge.

Tanner

Anunceasingamountofdings has me groaning as I turn in my bed to shut off my phone. It takes a few moments to process that it was the notification sound for Google alerts, and I only have that turned on for one person. I sit up, grab my phone, and click on the first article.

“Jesus, Sammie,” I curse, clicking through the next few articles in silence. Resentment built in my chest that she had gone off and slept with a man after our argumentagain.I know she didn’t owe me anything, as much as I tried to hurt her that night. But I'm not done, I will never be done with her.

I just don’t think we could reach an arrangement that she isn’t fucking others. She is mine, and I don’t want to share. But Sammie is like a cornered mouse, looking for any available exit from the trap. As I read through them, I couldn’t understand why she would do this. She never left irrefutable evidence. She never sent proof to the significant other.

“Wow. Your mother was right; she is a homewrecker,” Madeline says. I toss my phone away, unknowing how long she’s been reading over my shoulder. Standing from the bed, I grab a pair of sweats and glare down at her.

“Get out.”

She clutches the sheet to her chest and gawks at me. “Excuse me?”

“You and my mother don’t know the first thing about her.” I pick up her dress from the floor and toss it at her.

Madeline scoffs, glancing around as if she’s looking for words. “Are you seriously defending her right now? She had sex with a married man!”

I pick up my phone, flashing the selfie on the screen. “Do you think the wife got this accidentally? No, Sammie sent it to her, which tells me that she didn’t know the guy was married.”

Madeline shakes her head, climbing off the mattress and dropping the sheet. I take a brief moment to appreciate the sight of her naked body. Her breasts were a bit on the smaller side, but her dark red nipples sat perkily on the petite mounds. The darker curls at the apex of her thighs were alright, I preferred the waxed smoothness of Sam’s.

She hurries to get dressed, sending me annoyed glances the entire time. “I know she’s your friend, but I don’t understand why you’re throwing me out over it. You won’t be able to do that when we get married.”

“We won’t be getting married,” I tell her stoically.

Madeline stills. “What?”

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