Scarlett: I hope you’re ready for me tonight, because I’m beyond ready for you.
All I can picture is her laid out on my bed, telling me those words with a blush climbing her cheeks. Which is why I had to jack off before I came like a teenager in my pants.
I shouldn’t be on such a hair trigger for her, but I can’t help it. Scarlett is everything I never knew I could want. Hell, I didn’t know women like her existed. She’s ...
So fucking out of your league,the voice in my head fills in for me.
I want to tell it to shut the hell up, but Q is right outside my office, no doubt waiting for another chance to tell me to keep my dick in my pants because Scarlett Priest isn’t for me.
But Q doesn’t get it. All week, Scarlett and I have been texting and getting to know each other. It hasn’t even been dirty. We’ve talked about a ton of different shit, from my dog to her never having owned a pet, to flea markets and the best places to get dim sum in the city.
In all my years since I lost my virginity and women became a goal, I’ve never connected with one like this on a totally nonsexual level, while wanting to get inside her so badly that I don’t think I’ll make it another day without at least tasting her again.
But what about Jorie?
That fucking voice in my head that’snotJorie is pissing me off today, because it insists on making constant comparisons between the two women. But the truth is—there is no way to compare.
Jorie was a girl from a foster family with a voice that could have taken her all the way to the top. She and I were just fucking kids when we decided we were it for each other. I was going to build her a club where she could sing every night, and together we’d live this insane life of limos and champagne, and she’d be dripping with diamonds.
That’s the kind of shit you think about when you’re a kid, growing up with your stomach always growling because there’s never enough food to go around. We dreamed of the shit we saw on TV and in magazines. They were all just fantasies for kids with stars in their eyes.
Reality isn’t like that.
I was hustling, trying to get us enough money to get out of Biloxi so we could go to LA and Jorie could try to get a record deal. Then I fucked over the wrong guy. Moses Buford Gaspard.
And he took everything from me.
That’s how shit worked in Biloxi. If you reached too high above your station, you got knocked the fuck back down so hard that you wouldn’t ever try to reach again.
But after we ran, after Jorie was gone, I put all those dreams front and center in my head. I was going to build that club we talked about, and I was going to be somebody no one would ever fuck with. Then we got to New York, and I realized I wasn’t the only guy in this town with big fucking dreams. At least it was a place where shit was happening and there were opportunities.
So little by little, I stashed away cash from hustling and then fighting. Until the fights got bigger and bigger and I staked a club of my own. It grew and made good money, but being illegal, it could never be good enough. I had to go legit.
And here I am, once again, reaching high as hell above my station.
What if you get Scarlett killed too? What then, big man?
I turn to Bump, where he’s brushing Roux in the corner. “Where’s Zoe?”
“I dunno.”
“She’s talking to the servers before the doors open,” Q replies from the doorway. “Why? You have another extra-special request for Ms. Perfect?”
“Would you get off my dick about her, man? Jesus Christ,” I snap at Q.
“Yeah, Q, what’s your deal?” Bump asks as Roux thumps her tail. “She’s pretty, and he likes her. Can’t he just like a pretty girl?”
Q’s gaze shoots to Bump and then back to me. “You know I’m on your side. Always, brother.”
I incline my head, indicating he can keep going if he’s got more to say. And knowing Q, he’s always got more to say.
“This girl is different, man. She doesn’t live in the same world as the rest of us. She doesn’t play by the same rules. If she wants something, she barely has to think about it. It just shows up in front of her like the tooth fairy brought it.”
Then it hits me. “This isn’t about Scarlett, is it, Q? This is aboutyou.”
His expression darkens. “I’m only warning you because I know what it’s like when a spoiled little rich girl sees you and wants to take a walk on the wild side. Yeah, I’ve been there. And no, it doesn’t fucking work out for guys like us.”
“Oh, Q. Did a girl break your heart?” The totally sincere question comes from Bump. “I had no idea, buddy. That’s so mean.”