Page 77 of The Pucking Wrong Guy

“Be right back, baby.”

She’d just had three orgasms in a row so her smile was a little lazy as her eyes fluttered closed.

The sight of her like that was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

My phone dinged again and I growled as I walked over to the dresser to grab it, freezing when I saw the text.

Evidently, news of my antics at the game the other day had spread and Clark was finally well aware he’d been dumped. The P.I. said he’d booked a flight and was on his way to the airport now to try and get her back.

Seriously, this guy was a loser. It had literally beenweekssince they’d had a real conversation, and besides that one time, he’d been a total bump on a log.

Honestly, I’d expected him to put up more of a fight. He was making it too easy.

I turned to tell Blake I’d be right back, but she was fast asleep. I took a picture because the sight of it was just too good and then I strode out of the room, letting Waldo in behind me. I never let him in during sexy times–he seemed far too interested in my ass.

Once I was in my office, I dialed my go-to strategist, Lincoln.

"Hello, Ari," he purred through the phone.

“Oooh, that was a spooky sexy way to greet me,” I responded, and he barked out a laugh.

"What’s up?”

“Well, I have sort of a situation—”

“Oh shit, she found out, tried to leave, and you tied her to your bed,” he interjected, his voice a little...excited.

I frowned. “Um, that was oddly specific…but no. Wait—you sound like you have personal experience with that. Do you have a story to tell me?”

Silence for a half beat too long to not be suspicious. “Nope,” he finally said. Suspiciously.

“Lincoln—Golden boy—Daniels. DO NOT LIE TO ME!”

“Don’t you have a problem to fix?” he asked frantically.

I sighed, checking the flight information, because the dude’s plane would be leaving soon.

“We’ll come back to this,” I warned, and he snorted. “So, the “other” knows.”

“The other?”

“Oh, did I not tell you I now refer to the ex as the “other?” Keeps me from going insane, ya know.”

“Ahh. Understandable.”

“Anywayssssss. He saw the game the other day—”

“The one where you made sure that Blake and you would be on every news outlet in America?” Lincoln drawled.

“Well, yes. But listen. That was the goal. But honestly, the guy seemed too uptight to watch something like ESPN.”

“Buddy, that cutesy shit was everywhere. Monroe saw it on the Bravo channel.”

I preened because obvi I was awesome. But then I remembered there were fucking time constraints happening here.

“The “other” is on his way here. I need some more time…to secure the situation.”

"So you’ve come to the master, young grasshopper," Lincoln mused.

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