Mid-Thirties Slightly Hot Mess Female Seeking Billionaire (Single and Sassy in the city Book 2)

Sarah

Dear Diary. 

Yes, I slept with Ethan Rosser. And yes, Ethan Rosser is hot. And yes, he has a big cock, and knows how to work it. And yes, I don’t regret it, but I’m just not sure where we go from here. What am I going to do? 

Confused and concerned Sarah.

We’re sitting in Ethan’s home office, and I’m wearing a pair of his boxer shorts and an oversized T-shirt. He’s wearing a pair of boxers and no top. I’m playing the guitar, trying to come up with a cool tune for the jingle that we’re going to use for Rosser Home Goods, but I’m finding it very hard to concentrate. My legs and my pussy are aching, and my entire body is sore, in the very best way. I feel like I’m in a movie, some sort of surrealist picture filmed in Italy or France, because I can’t quite believe that I’m here, sitting in his boxers and T-shirt, and we’ve already had sex twice. I don’t know what it means. It most probably means nothing. He already told me it wasn’t going to happen more than five times, and I don’t want it to happen ever again after today because it would be weird and awkward and… Oh, who am I kidding? I definitely want to fuck him again.

‘Oh, I like that,’ he says as I strum randomly, not even thinking about the notes I’m playing.

‘Oh,’ I say and continue strumming. My fingers move across the strings, imagining they are gliding across his body.

‘Yes, that sounds great. Da da dum. Da da dum.’ He’s humming along to my beat. His face is serious now. He’s back in work mode, and a part of me wonders if I can get him out of work mode—again. A part of me wonders if I can seduce him and have him put the guitar down and come and take me yet again. But I don’t want to try it. I don’t want to risk it because, what if he says no? What if he says he needs to focus and concentrate? That will make me feel like shit. That will make me feel like I’m not the seductress I think I am. I don’t even know who I was when I was saying half the things I was saying in his bed. I blush, thinking about how I told him to, ‘fuck me now.’ Who says that to their boss? Fuck me now? I have never said that before to anyone in my life. But it had felt right at the moment.

‘So, was the balloon salesman thing true?’ he asks as he stops humming, and I gaze at him in confusion.

‘Huh?’ I put the guitar down.

‘You said you dated a balloon salesman before or something? Or was it a time-share person?’

‘Oh, you mean from the ad?’

‘Yeah, from the ad.’ He sits next to me. ‘I was just curious.’

‘So, I did date a guy, he used to make animal balloons for kids’ birthday parties,’ I say, making a face, thinking of Shamus.

‘Oh, cool. And he was good?’

‘No, he sucked. He couldn’t make any animals.’

‘Wait, what?’ He glances at me and lays his palm on my thigh gently. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, he was a con artist. He had ads that said he could make all these different types of balloon animals from photos he took off Google. And then, when he would get to the party, he would have all these balloons and then he couldn’t make any animals. But then he’d start singing and dancing and doing all sorts of stuff to try to get the kids’ attention onto something else.’

‘Wait, what?’ Ethan scratches his forehead. ‘So, he was an animal balloon party con man?’

‘Yeah. He was a jackass, and yet I still dated him.’ I shake my head to rid myself of the memories. ‘My radar was off that day.’

‘Please tell me you didn’t know he was an animal balloon party con man when you first started dating him.’

I press my lips together. ‘Can I plead the fifth?’

‘Oh, please, tell me you did not know.’ He looks shocked.

‘Let’s just say I was at a birthday party for a friend’s kid that I went to because she begged me to attend. I hadn’t even wanted to attend because it was going to be boring with a bunch of snotty spoiled kids in Connecticut. But I digress. There I was, at this party, and there he was. Standing there, looking like a tall, skinny hunk. He was supposed to be making giraffe balloons, yet he wasn’t. And I did kind of notice he wasn’t making them, but I told myself he was distracted because he was attracted to me and the reason why he’d been unable to make them was because he was too busy trying to flirt with me.’ I pause. ‘Anyway, long story short, we dated for a couple of weeks.’

‘Oh, wow, long time.’ He laughs as I stick my tongue out at him. ‘Why did you break up?’

‘Because he told people that I was a trapeze artist.’

‘What?’ He looks astounded.

‘Don’t ask. Basically, he told people we met working at a circus and I was a trapeze artist. And lo and behold, he was getting money for me to do a trapeze act in Central Park at some party. Me, who can barely walk a straight line on the ground,’ I say, thinking back to that embarrassing day. ‘Yeah. So that was great.’

‘He sounds like a winner,’ Ethan says sarcastically.

‘Total winner.’

‘Was he at least good in bed?’ he asks me.

‘I know you didn’t just ask me that, Ethan.’ I’m appalled that he would go there with his questions.

‘I mean, was he as good as me?’

‘I’m not answering that,’ I say, shaking my head. I’m not going to tell him that I never slept with Shamus because all he seemed to want to talk about was the different parties he was going to be performing at and how he was going to be a big star.

‘And what about the time-share salesman?’

‘Oh, you don’t want to hear about him.’

‘I do,’ he says. ‘You did post it. I want to hear more.’

‘Basically, my friend and I won a trip on a cruise.’

‘Oh, that sounds fun.’

‘Well, the story isn’t that fun. We got a letter in the mail, basically saying we won this cruise for a week to The Bahamas for ninety-nine dollars.’

‘Okay,’ he says. ‘So, not exactly free.’

‘Anyway, we have to call the number to get the details.’

‘Sounds pretty normal, so far.’

‘I call the number, and this guy says, ‘Congratulations, come down to the office.’ So, I go down to the office, and it’s this really hot guy that looks like Jason Momoa, and he’s from Hawaii,’ I say, thinking back to the first time I saw Walker.

‘Ooh, so you like Jason Momoa?’ Ethan says. ‘He looks very different than me.’

‘I mean, I wouldn’t say no if…’ I pause, and he lifts an eyebrow.

‘If he what?’

‘Nothing,’ I say. I’m not going to tell my boss, the man I just hooked up with, that Jason Momoa would be my hall pass if I had one. ‘Anyway, the guy, Walker, starts trying to sell me some hotel vacation in the British Virgin Islands, and I’m just like, ‘No, I just came for my free cruise for the ninety-nine dollars for the taxes.’ Long story short, he takes me out to lunch, or at least I thought he was taking me out to lunch, but it was basically a sales pitch.’Material © of NôvelDrama.Org.

‘Please, tell me you didn’t date him, too.’

‘Let’s just say that we went on a couple of dates, and it didn’t work out.’

‘And are you going to tell me why it didn’t work out?’

‘Let’s just say that we were in bed for the first time, and he says to me, ‘So can I get your contract on the paperwork before we bang?’’

‘No, he didn’t.’ Ethan is laughing now. ‘Please tell me you didn’t bang him.’

‘No, I didn’t bang him. I grabbed my jacket, pulled it on, and left.’ I frown. ‘And no, I didn’t see him again. I’m not that stupid, even though he did try calling me multiple times from several different phone numbers.’

‘Sounds like that dude really wanted the commission.’

‘Yeah, he did. So, you can see now why I’m kind of not interested in dating broke-ass men.’ When I look at him to see if he understands where I’m coming from, he nods. I think to myself that I’ve just messed up because I don’t want him to think I’m trying to date him or that I only want rich men. ‘I don’t want you to think because of my past that it means I’m trying to get a billionaire. That was just a joke. The next guy I date will be…’

‘Will be what?’ he asks, staring at me with an interested expression on his face.

‘I mean, he’ll have enough money that he doesn’t need to try and use me for the pittance that I make.’

‘I pay you a pittance. Do I really?’ he asks, smirking.

‘Well, you don’t exactly pay me a lot.’

‘Okay. Is that something you would like me to speak to HR about?’

‘No,’ I say quickly. ‘Are you out of your mind?’

‘Why would I be out of my mind, speaking to HR about paying you more?’

‘Because we just…’ I pause. I can’t say made love. We didn’t make love. I don’t want to say had sex. It sounds so crude. I didn’t want to say fuck because that was dirty. ‘We just banged?’ I regret it as soon as the words come out of my mouth.

‘Isn’t postcoital time the best time to ask for something?’

‘I don’t want you to think that I slept with you because I want something from you.’

‘Why did you sleep with me?’

‘Why did you sleep with me?’ I retort back at him.

‘Ah, a question answered with another question.’ He grins and cocks his head to the side. ‘I slept with you because I find you to be very attractive, very sexy, and,’ he licks his lips, ‘you seemed to be into it. You were into it, right?’

‘Yes.’ I nod. ‘Obviously.’

‘Good,’ he says, and then makes a face. ‘I forgot to ask you…’

‘I’m on birth control,’ I say quickly. ‘You’re clean, right?’

‘Yes,’ he says, ‘I get tested every thirty days. You?’

‘Yeah, I get tested every time I go to the gynecologist, and I haven’t had sex in a while, so I’m good.’

‘Good,’ he says, ‘I kind of liked coming inside of you.’

I blush at his frank comment. My entire body is heated. Am I crazy for loving how honest and open he is about everything? ‘I know you did. But what would you have done if I said I wasn’t on birth control?’

‘I feel like you would’ve asked me to pull out or something, right?’ He waits for me to answer, then says, ‘Unless you were trying to trap me with a baby or something. I mean, to be honest, I wasn’t even thinking about it. I was caught up in the moment. Fuck, I feel like an eighteen-year-old boy again.’

‘It’s okay,’ I say. ‘I make you feel young because I’m so cool and fun—ha-ha.’

‘You sure are,’ he says with a nod. ‘You make me feel fucking hot and horny, too.’

‘Is that your way of telling me you want to bang again?’

‘I don’t know if I want to bang, but I sure want to fuck.’ His palm moves up my thigh and he leans down to kiss me again.

‘But that will be the third time, and you have a five-time limit,’ I remind him, swallowing hard. Why do I feel so comfortable with this man? Why do I feel like I’ve known him for years?

‘I’m not worried about it.’ His lips are on mine again, and I run my fingers down his back. If he’s not worried about it, then neither am I. Because, frankly, I feel like I’m in the best daydream of my life and I never want it to end.