Onewoman.
The one I’ve been claiming, bit by fucking bit.
Taking every innocence. Every first.
I looked into that Ethan motherfucker. Not out of any patheticjealousyor anything. Just out of curiosity.
Okay, fuck it, jealousy too.
But the brief little romance between Evelina and that chuckle-fuck was about as steamy as an animated Disney princess movie. Ethan wasveryforthcoming after I fed him eight cocktails and half a dose of sodium pentothal.
The only reason he left the bar alive the other night was because he admitted he'd never fucked, gone down on, or had his dick sucked bymyprincess.
He did mention some hand stuff.Luckilyfor those hands and their fondness for remaining attached to his wrists, Ethan is engaged now, and apparently quite taken with his fiancée.
Plus, I was feeling generous that night.
But all this is to say that I know that every line I cross with her is the first time that line has been conquered.
We should go do some conquering right now, don’t you think?
Why not.
I stand abruptly. “Something’s come up with work. I have to run.”
Val glares at me. I give him a half shrug.
“Aww, c’mon.” Morgan tries to smile at me. “Stay. Please? I mean, you haven’t even touched your drink?—”
“You thirsty, Morgan?”
“Sucha fucking prick,” Val hisses as I smile tightly at them both. Then I turn and walk away, making sure to let the management know on my way out to run my card for whatever Val and Morgan order.
“Vaughn!”
I’m halfway down the block when I hear Morgan calling my name. My mouth twists as I turn to look at him expectantly.
He frowns, shaking his head and picking at his fingers before he looks at me. “I just…I… I wish I could start over with you.”
“I don’t believe in wishes, Morgan,” I growl. “I stopped doing that when I was five. What Idobelieve in ismaking things happen.”
Morgan sighs, shaking his head. “You sound just like your grandfather.”
“If you're saying I sound like him more than I do you, I’ll take the compliment.”
“Only because you didn’t know him, Vaughn,” Morgan says tightly.
But I do know him.
WE know him.
“Don’t keep meeting up with and talking to Val,” I spit.
He frowns. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t try and cultivate a fucking relationship with him. He’s been through enough. And it’s a cheap shot. You know damn well he doesn’t remember our childhood with you and Mom.”
The beauty of childhood amnesia, courtesy the DEA flash grenade.
