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My dick keeps threatening to pop boners remembering Blair at the most inappropriate times. Like when I took my niece and nephew toy shopping, and the Hello Kitty toys threatened to turn me on.
What the hell?
After our Valentine’s together, after the Bad Kitty collar and cat tail butt plug Blair wore that night; every kitty reminds me of her.
And every time I eat peanut butter, I remember her, too. How she’s the hottest damn woman who likes it on her cheeseburgers. How she’s the friend who’s kept my secret since college.
How Blair’s the beautiful woman who scored my heart.
Fuck, getting sacked by huge linemen dozens of times to the point my ribs are bruised doesn’t scare me. I’d rather have that crushing pain than confront this.
Delta’s
Where satisfaction is guaranteed
That’s what the brass plaque on the black door reads, and it’s true.
I found satisfaction beyond my wildest dreams here. I found it deep inside Blair Monroe, but I had to leave.
And now I’m back, and my lonely dick is very happy about it.
But my worried mind? I’m dragging in a cocky-as-fuck breath so I can do this. I have to do this.
When I press the doorbell, a chime fills the air. When the heavy, wooden door opens, a behemoth man greets me, “Good afternoon.”
I recognize him. He’s the same guy who was here Valentine’s night.
I step inside, almost nervous to be caught in a high-end sex shop. My paranoia is at epic levels now, and I have every justified reason why. I’m so hunted by the press and fans; it’s insane. Literally, my sanity is slipping over it.
I hide under vintage ball caps, like the TEXACO one I wear.
But I glance left, and thankfully, Blair’s gorgeous twin is the only one in the front parlor. Yeah, we’ve met. Like an angry Uber driver, she delivered the sex toys Blair requested to our suite at The Mercier Hotel. And maybe I should’ve given her twin a tip then because she scowls at me now.
“Hey,” I wave, “nice to see you again.”
Her glare kicks my balls. “Third floor,” she hisses.
Then I turn, and the bouncer at the door growls, “Hurt her more, and I don’t give a fuck if I’m your biggest fan. I’ll break your golden arm.”
Hurt her?
What is he talking about?
Blair and I weren’t a thing.
We were a one-night-only, and she wanted it that way. She insisted. She made me leave.
And yes, I needed to. I had shoulder surgery the next day in Boston. And no, I didn’t want to leave her because I’ve wished for Blair since college.
Do you have an ultimate vacation you dream about? One that would make all the shit worth it? That gives you hope, but secretly, you fear you’ll never go?
That’s Blair.
When I close my eyes, she’s my paradise. She’s where I want to be.
But who in the hell gets a perfect place? Or life? No one. We just get teases of bliss while reality shits over the rest.
“Yeah, man,” I huff. “I’m not here to hurt her.”
