He hops out of bed, strips down to nothing, and grabs a condom from the nightstand drawer.
He sinks down to his back, rolls the protection on his hard cock, and offers it to me.
Yes, it’s an offering indeed. Because it’s a beautiful dick, long and thick.
“I could write a song about this dick,” I say as I straddle him.
He arches one playful brow. “Then I guess I’d better make sure this is a really inspirational fuck.”
I laugh. “Oh, I’m pretty sure it will be, Shaw.”
I straddle him, sink down, and then yes, I sing his praises for the next half hour as he fucks me good, and hard, and better than anyone has before.
By the time we’re done, I’ve lost count of my orgasms.
And the reason for my grand plan too.
As I lie there in his bed, spent, with this attentive, obsessed-with-me Englishman, I’m not thinking of revenge. I’m thinking of living well.
I turn to him. “Do you want to come to the opening of my club with me next week?”
The corners of his lips curve up. “Like a date, Camden?” It’s a question full of delight. “A real one?”
“Was tonightnota real date?”
“It was a revenge fuck,” he says. “But it sounds like I revenge fucked my way right into your calendar, didn’t I?” The man is simply too pleased. But it’s well deserved.
I laugh. “You definitely did, Shaw.”
He leans over and kisses my cheek. “Good. Stay the night. I’ll be taking you out tomorrow too. And fucking you to another hat trick again.”
“Yes, sir.”
Shaw is a man of his word. He takes me out the next night for a walk along the Brooklyn Bridge, then to dinner at an off-the-beaten-path bistro before he has me again for dessert.
The next week, he joins me at the opening of my club and wraps his arms around me as we watch some of the most talented female singers perform on my stage before a packed house, thank you very much.
When the last one is finishing, I tell Shaw I’ll be right back.
“Don’t take too long, princess.”
“I won’t,” I say, then weave through Goddess, down the hall to the wings, and enter the stage to sing a new song.
“This is ‘Good Luck Kiss,’ and it’s for Number Twenty-Six.”
Shaw’s eyes spark. His smile touches something deep inside me. And his gaze never leaves mine as I sing about his inspirational kisses.
The next morning when we wake up at my place, he asks me to come to another game. “It’s our first game against the Red Hawks this weekend,” he says, “And I would love for my girlfriend to be there when we take on your ex.”
My ears perk. My heart dances. “I’m your girlfriend? That didn’t take long.”
He smiles. “Princess, I’m not the kind of man who fucks around.”
His meaning is crystal clear, and it does not go unappreciated. I show him how much I like it with my mouth on his long, pretty dick.
When he leaves, he kisses me at the door. “I have a new jersey for you. I’ll send it over before the game.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the one I have,” I point out.
