Chapter 1 – When we first met
I’ve always been the good time girl. The ‘live by the seat of your pants’ girl. Life is a party, and all I want to do is have some fun.
I have the job I’ve always wanted, and my own apartment in Wicker Park that I love. I have my best friend, Mia, who I adore, and an active social life, having been befriended by her big family and their group of somewhat incestuous yet totally lovable friends.
Then, while out on a girls’ night out, Matt Taylor—who Mia hooked up with in a supply closet at her sister, Zoe’s, wedding two years ago—happens to be at the same club as us, giving Mia a look that screams “save me” as a random woman grinds her way up his leg like a dog in heat.
“We should be filming this,” I say with a laugh, Mia soon joining me.
Matt’s desperate wide eyes beg for us to help. After letting it go on for a few minutes, Mia sighs and puts her drink down on the table. “Look after that for me. I’m going in.”
I giggle as she crosses the large room and says something that makes Matt smile before she draws him close and crushes her lips to his mouth, his hands gripping her ass and holding her in place as they both take the fake show to a whole new level. So much so, it starts to look not so fake and a whole lot of real.
While laughing at the bunny boiler who’s huffing and puffing, her mouth agape at the scene in front of her, I catch sight of Matt’s very sexy, construction-worker-arms, hot friend Jase across the club. Even in the dimmed lights, I can’t drag my eyes away from the guy.
He has dark eyes and chocolate brown hair. A jawline I’m desperate to run my tongue along. A chest I want to run my hands down. Then there’s his ass, it’s round and tight and gropable. I literally stand there staring at him, trying whatever Jedi mind tricks I have in my repertoire to silently will him to look my way. Then he turns his head, and my heart stops or jumps… whatever. I want to know the guy—more than know him—but he’s going to have to be the one to make that first move.
Despite being a go-getter in every other aspect of my life, when it comes to men, I like to be chased. Why set myself up for rejection when I’d much rather have the guy come to me? At least then I know it’s a sure thing.
So, although it’s lust at first sight, I know I want this guy, and not just for his undoubtedly talented cock. Because there’s no way God would make a man look that fine then make him miss the good-at-sex line, right?
My ogling is borderline stalkerish by the time he finally turns his attention my way, then I truly stop breathing. His gaze is downright carnal, his eyes flashing bright and hungry as he takes a far-from-subtle perusal of my tight and sparkly dress, and equally screwable six-inch heels that together make me appear over-the-top fuckworthy. That look has me wanting to lie down right here to offer myself up as a meal. If looks could talk, then his would say, “I wanna eat you alive.”
His intensity has my nipples tingling, my nether regions clenching in anticipation, and every part in between electrified. It’s like I’ve stuck my finger in a power outlet. This is that ‘holy shit’ moment my parents always told me about. A lightning bolt from the universe telling me I’ve met my lifetime lover—well, that’s how Mom has always described it as feeling like. “You’ll know when you meet your soulmate because Cupid will shoot your ass with an arrow that’ll have you feeling it for days.”
Did I mention my parents were free-loving hippies who believe in the universe and fate controlling everything in our lives? Not that I should base my relationship on my parents’ one. I’m all for free love, but they take it to a new level that’s beyond even my desires.
A short squeal breaks the moment. I look away, my attention snapping to the performance Mia and Matt are giving on the dance floor. Jase grins widely at them. I decide then and there that I could die and go to heaven if he ever directs that smile at me, more so if I ever get the chance to make him smile like that. Right now, I’ve figuratively melted into a slippery pile of goo on the floor. Well, something’s definitely wet, and it’s definitely me.
I’ve never been one to set myself up for rejection, and I’m not gonna start with this guy. But if he makes the first move, then ride ’em, cowboy, I’ll be ready and waiting to jump all up on that rodeo.
Oh, and get to know him while I’m at it. ’Cause that’s what I’m supposed to do, right? The universe says so.
But who says a girl can’t multi-task while she’s doing it?
Ten days later, the universe gives me my answer in the form of a text from Mia.
Best Bitch: Hey. You open to a set-up?
Me: With who?
Best Bitch: That wasn’t the question.
Me: My answer depends on your answer.
Best Bitch: Double date with Matt and Jase.
My stomach sinks.
Best Bitch: No, you idiot. Matt and I would accompany you and Jase on YOUR date.
Me: Am I that scary I need supervision?
Best Bitch: He’s a nice guy. You’re your own brand of crazy. Call us buffers…
Me: Pussy buffer?
Best Bitch: Or cock buffer?
Me: Is that like a fluffer? ’Cause sorry babe, I’ve never had complaints at my ability to fluff anything or anyone.
Best Bitch: You haven’t said yes yet. I’ve got his number for you if you’d like to call him.
No, no, no. That’s not how this works.
Me: Give him my number. Tell him he’s welcome to call me 😉
Best Bitch: Just call?
Me: Let’s see how good his game is. That’ll determine whether any buffer services will be needed.
Best Bitch: You’re totally thinking up other things to buff right now, aren’t you?
Me: No, I’m imagining how much “fluffing” Jase might need—or not—to get the job done at the end of the date.
Best Bitch: Your mind is a weird and wonderful place
Me: Believe me, you have NO idea. Why do you think I have such an active solo sex life?
Best Bitch: There is such a thing as TMI.
Best Bitch: Let me know how the call goes and when our date is.
Me: You’re starting to sound like my mom and dad and their harem outings.
Best Bitch: I’ll never get over that time we went to visit and walked in on them entertaining in the lounge…
Me: I’ve been in therapy since the age of twelve. Don’t even go there.
Best Bitch: Bye, bitch
Me: Bye, Meems.
Not thirty minutes later my phone rings with a number I haven’t seen before. I may have been a little busy, one-handing my phone while scrolling through Tumblr videos and imagining Jase’s face doing unmentionable things to my body, when I answer it, thinking it could be my nomad sister calling from some random town in some random state. “Morgan, if this is you, you owe me a drink for interrupting me pre-orgasm.”
Silence. Nothing but silence. My heart starts pounding the longer the line stays quiet, my chest seizing at the thought I may have just announced my masturbation plans to a total stranger.
“Fuck that’s hot,” a very deep, hoarse voice says in my ear, amping me from zero to almost there with just those three words. All prior panic dissolves at his rough, rumbling tone.
“You expecting another man to call, princess?”
Ah, fuck. “I’m no princess.”
“That’s only because you haven’t been with me yet. Don’t let me stop you, though. I’ll wait here as long as you let me hear you finish.”
“Well, hell! Is it getting hot in here?”
“It would be hotter if I was there. But let’s get our first date out of the way first.”
“You, sir, talk a good game.”
“I play a good one too. But again, this is something I’m more than willing to show you at the hockey this Friday night.”
I gasp, my voice dropping to a loud whisper. “You like hockey.”
“I like any game Chicago has a team for. Hockey, baseball—”
“Wait, Cubs or White Sox?”
“Is that an actual question? Cubs, of course.”
“Oh, thank god,” I breathe.
He chuckles down the phone. “Deal-breaker for you too?”
“You have no idea.”
“Well, I’m glad we’re on the same page then.”
“So am I. Otherwise I’d be doubting the universe’s intentions where you’re involved.”
“Uh… am I supposed to know what that means?”
Shit, hide the crazy till after at least the first date. “It’s nothing.” It’s everything. “So, hockey Friday? And I hear Matt and Mia are chaperoning us?”
He chuckles and it’s enough to get me squirming. What is it with me and this guy? Jase just has to breathe and I’m a horny hot mess.
If he was here right now, we could be a horny hot mess together which sounds a whole lot more fun.
“It was Matt’s idea. I definitely don’t need a buffer or a wingman. I’m the one who asked him for your number, and I’m the one who wants to go out on a date with you. I think Matt is using it as a reason to get Mia to go out with him.”
“Ahh. That makes sense. She has been avoiding him since the wedding,” I say, breathing a sigh of relief. “They should totally just fuck and get it over with.”
“Is that what you’d do?” he asks, his voice dropping deep and low again.
“I like to know who I’m fucking first. Call it having a little bit of dignity. I at least have a conversation and get a guy’s name first.”
“Hi. My name is Jase …”
I burst out laughing, my smile so wide it threatens to split my face. “Hi. I’m Natalia Persephone Chase. Nice to meet you.”
“Persephone? That’s unique.”
“My parents are free-spirited,” I explain, matter-of-factly, because that’s definitely one way to describe them.
“I like it. It suits you.”
“But you don’t really know me yet.” His confidence and familiarity is throwing me off. And I’m not a girl who’s usually thrown unless it’s down on a bed.
“I’ve been watching you for a while.”
“Be still, my earth-loving heart,” I tease.
“I can’t help it if you’re intriguing.”
“As are you. I’m really looking forward to Friday now.”
“Matt and I will pick you ladies up Friday night, and I’ll leave you to resume what I rudely interrupted by calling.”
“Feel free to interrupt me at any time.”
“It wouldn’t be interrupting if I was there. I’d be making you scream louder than your neighbors could handle.”
Now it’s my turn to curse under my breath. “Fuck.”
“Let’s get the first date under our belts.”
“Belts just delay the inevitable.”
“Belts can also turn a good date into a fucking fantastic date,” he says. “But again—”
“Let’s wait till Friday,” we say together, before laughing quietly.
“See you then, Jase.”
“I’ll count down the days, princess.”
Shit. Party girl is down for the count. I look at my phone. A rather loud and particularly titillating video resumes when the call ends. Well, he did say to return to my previous activities, it’s just now I have rather fresh memories of his voice, his laugh, and—oh yeah—his promise to make me scream.
Friday, Friday, gonna get laid on Friday.