I can’t believe my ears. Ryan’s never come that hard before? Not ‘by a long shot’? How is that possible? I’d have thought this manwhore would have made a career out of coming exactly that hard with all his many conquests. I mean, come on, this is the guy who traded numbers with some woman in a restaurant the minute his girlfriend got up to use the restroom, and then went to a bar that same night to do it again, so I can only imagine how many partners this fucker has in any given week. Plus, come on, the guy’s got a piercing at the base of his dick designed for nothing but giving women orgasms. Clearly, Ryan Morgan’s a fuck machine.
Ryan pulls the condom off his dick, ties a knot at its top, and lets out a long, satisfied sigh. “And that’s what’s known as ‘fulfilling my master plan,’ baby.”
27
Ryan
“God, you’re an asshole,” Samantha (or T-Rod or Tessa or whatever-the-fuck-her-name-is) says through clenched teeth, abruptly sitting up.
I laugh. “It was ajoke.”
She glares at me.
“You sincerely think fucking youhere,in Hawaii, in the hotel where my sister’s getting married—afterfinding out you Leonardo-DiCaprio’d me—was all precisely according to the ‘master plan’ I brilliantly hatched three months ago at The Pine Box?”
She can’t keep from smiling.
“Sweetheart,” I say, “if this crazy-as-fuck shit show is how Iintendedto execute my ‘master plan’ to bone the fuck outta ya, then I really should be using my incredible powers at commanding the universe for something a bit more high-minded than getting laid. You know, like brokering world peace or manipulating the stock market?”
Samantha-T-Rod-Tessa makes an adorable face. “Actually, you didn’t execute your master plan,” she sniffs. “Not as stated, anyway.”
“Excuse me? Are you experiencing pleasure-induced amnesia? I just made you come, like, four times.”
She smirks. “Yes, but you said your master plan was to ‘get me into your bed.’” She motions to the neatly made, fluffy white bed across the room. “If you’re gonna be so cocky as to call your shot, you’d better sink your damned shot, as called.”
We both laugh.
Damn. For the past three months, I’ve been so busy watching that damned Enrique Iglesias video and thinking about how sexy Samantha is, I’d forgotten how funny she is, too. “Fair enough,” I say. “I’ll be sure to sink my shot exactly as called next time, Argentina.”
“There won’t be a next time, Romeo,” she says. “This was a one-time lapse in judgment that, as of this moment, never happened.”
I pick up the semen-filled condom-balloon next to me and hold it up. “Pretty sure it happened.”
She shrugs. “I have no memory of how that sperm got inside that condom. In fact, who are you? Have we met? And why is my crotch throbbing?”
“Why bother with post-coitus bullshit? We both know what we just did rocked both our worlds and we can’t wait to do it again. Why waste valuable time denying that when we should be talking about where round two’s gonna happen—my room or yours?”
“Sorry, Colby. I have no idea what you’re talking about. Oh, wait. I’m sorry. You’reKeane. Damn you Morgan brothers, you all look the same to me.”
“Could we please skip the bullshit? Thanks.”
“Oh, you wanna skip the bullshitnow? Well, guess what? I would have liked to skip the bullshit three months ago when your girlfriend blasted into the bar and called me a ‘cunt.’”
“Here we go. Olivia wasn’t my girlfriend by then. I’d already broken up with her earlier that day. And if we’re gonna talk about that night in the bar, then let’s back up a wee bit and start the discussion with, ‘What the fuck were you doing wearing a fucking flight attendant uniform, Leonardo DiCaprio?’”
“It was a victimless crime, you big cry-baby,” she says, but before I can reply, her phone pings loudly in her bag a few feet away on the floor and she grabs it. “Shit,” she blurts, looking at her phone. She hurriedly stands and grabs her underpants and bra off the floor. “Fuck!”
“What’s wrong?”
“You mean besides the fact that I just slept with a cheating, lying manwhore without an ounce of integrity in his entire, tattooed, pierced, perfect body?”
“Yeah, besides that.”
“You mean besides the fact that I’m trapped on an island for a full week with said manwhoreandwill likely see him at least once a year for the rest of my life at birthday parties for Gracie Louise?”
“Yeah, besides that stuff, too.”
She finishes clasping her bra and bends down to gather her sundress off the floor. “The travel agent just texted me. There’s some sort of glitch with the airport transportation for Josh’s fraternity brothers and their plus-ones, all of whom will be touching down at the airport any minute now.” She pulls her dress over her head. “Not to mention, the activities director texted to tell me Josh’s Uncle William and the Faraday group is currentlyen routefrom the airport—a group I’ve got to personally greet because, based on past experience, William Faraday is inevitably gonna have a thousand unexpected issues with his bungalow, no matter how objectively perfect it is, and I’m the only one who always knows how to smooth things over with that finicky fucker. So, if I don’t get my ass to that lobby right now, we’re most likely gonna be playing Musical Bungalows with Uncle William for at least an hour ’til he’s fully satisfied.” She turns her back to me, implicitly asking me to zip up her dress, which I do. “God, I never should have done this,” she mutters.
