Page 6 of Unconventional Love

What kind of man promises to fuck you and then doesn’t so much as leave his number?

“Because,you woke me up yesterday. It’s only fair. Besides, we need to start getting ready. Here take these.” She rummages through her bag and passes me a bottle of painkillers. “It’ll help. I saw you ordering lemon drop shots last night before Samuel and I left.”

I chuckle. Jules really does know me better than anyone else, which is why it’s not a surprise when she follows with. “So, I’m glad to see you got somegood sleep,too.” Her tone is teasing as she looks from my sex crazed hair to the bedspread that’s still in shambles.

“I was actually getting great sleep, after mygood sleep, until you barged in.”

“Consider it payback for yesterday,” she quips and stands, walking to the bedroom and setting her duffle on the edge of the bed. Only now do I realize there’s smeared glow paint on the white linens.Hope delivery daddy doesn’t have to pay for that.

“How about you fill me in on your sexscapades over coffee? Then, we can come back and get ready.”

“Maybe we can just get coffee in the lobby today?” I wince.

Jules raises an eyebrow in question before her eyes widen as she pieces my reasoning together. “Olivia Montgomery. You didnotfuck the barista.”

I open my mouth to respond when another knock sounds at the door. My brows furrow as I can’t think of anyone who could be there. Perhaps my mystery man came back.

“Who’s that?” Jules asks. Her perplexed expression matching my own.

“I don’t know, but considering you have on more clothing than I do, could you get it?”

She pads across the floor and is back in an instant with a small white box, and a yellow notecard in her hand. “Who is G?”

“G?” Confusion riddles my features as she passes me the card.

Thought you might be hungry, Lemon Drop.

x - G

A stupid grin pulls at the corner of my lips before I can stop myself. In an attempt to avoid rapid fire questioning, I roll my eyes and toss the card down on the table beside me. I don’t even know this man.

Maybe he is a psychopath.

Having his dick in my mouth is hardly grounds for a breakfast delivery… but fuck if I don’t love it.

“Wait, wasn’t the barista’s name Sky?” Jules inquires. This is exactly what I didn’t want.

“What’s in the box?” I deflect. She already knows I was at the bar with Sky, but left with Samuel before mystery man—or I guessG—showed up. I wasn’t exactly planning on telling her about him.

“Ummm.” She lifts the top of the box and the smell of lemon has my stomach growling in an instant. “Gross, who the fuck eats lemon scones?” Her face twists.

“I do, bitch,” I reply, snatching the box from her hands. The repulsive pastry apparently makes Jules forget about the elusive G as she pulls her straightener from her bag and plugs it into the outlet by the floor to ceiling mirror. She flips on the light closest to her, and I bring my hands to my temples, rubbing the pain away from the sudden brightness. Blonde hair falls in a wave down her back as she removes the hair clip and sets to work.

I groan and retrieve my makeup bag, the shirt I had made for the convention, my underwear, and the short black leather skirt to match, before heading to the en suite to shower.

After I’ve fully washed the remnants of my late night rendezvous from my body, Jules joins me in the en suite and we do our makeup together. She’s gone lighter today, while I draw my eyeliner on thick, and select a dark maroon, matte lipstick. I’m feeling energized this morning. I don’t plan on meeting any more strangers at the convention, but if the opportunity arises, I may as well look hot for it.

Once we are finished, I pull on my black, leather boots, and move to put my coat on, but Jules stops me.

“Okay, I’ve been trying to figure out what the hell your shirt means, and for the life of me, I can’t figure it out.” She gestures to my outfit of the day, and I laugh—I had this shirt made a few weeks ago specifically for the convention after I finished readingBeastly Armoryby Kitty King. It’s a white t-shirt with KYRITD printed over my favorite author’s logo. Jules has never been much of a dark romance girl; which is clear by the maroon shirt she’s wearing, showcasing a cartoon stack of her favorite novels. I know she reads some dark books, but Kitty King would be a whole new world for her.

“Know Your Role. Idolize This Dick,” I reply simply.

Shaking her head with a sigh and her infamous eye roll, she chides. “Jesus, Liv.”

“What? I can’t help it if your sole purpose of the day is to get a signature from a romcom author.”

“You know Kitty isn’t going to be there, right?”

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