Peyton: The fancy high-rise, the huge payment, the hot, rich older man. It’s screaming Julia Roberts, babe.
Me: Definitely felt like it. Want to know the worst part?
Peyton: Was it his penis?
Andi: Please tell us it wasn’t the penis…
My head tipped back as a hyena style laugh spilled out of me.
Me: I didn’t even get to see his penis. It definitely wasn’t the penis.
God, I had felt his penis, though. The way it rubbed along my thighs. His hard length bulging from his pants. The way his sweatpants darkened in color once he spilled inside of them. My cheeks heated at the replay reeling through my mind.
Andi: Well, spill it then.
Me: He gifted me a fuck ton of clothes. I mean an entirely new wardrobe.
Peyton: See! This has Pretty Woman written all over it. But that’s a problem, how?
Me: I couldn’t possibly fit it all in my van. I had to leave most of it behind. So, I took a few outfits, and he told me it would be there for me when I came back.
Peyton: Ahh, I see. Basically, it’s like committing to leave a toothbrush.
Me: Exactly. Except in this situation, it’s leaving an entire corner of the closet full of clothes perfectly picked out for me.
Andi: I don’t see the problem. Big dick energy. Check. Made you breakfast. Check. Bought you clothes without batting an eye. Check. What am I missing?
Peyton: What she said ^^
Andi: Give him a chance, sis. When was the last time you did something for YOU?
Why did they have to be right ninety-nine percent of the time? I hadn’t done a thing for myself in God knows how long.
Based on how last night went, turning him down just sounded like torture. If the night I lived just hours ago was what it would always be like to spend an evening with Spencer, I’d be an idiot to deny myself of that freeing and thrilling energy he pumped into my veins.
Me: You’re right. Per usual. Gonna nap before work tonight. Catch up soon. XOXO.
Spencer paid me enough to get me through the week and then some. I could work tonight since I’d already committed and take the rest of the week one day at a time. Maybe I’d put myself first for once and spend more time with him this weekend instead of making money just to send it to my scumbag ex-boyfriend.
Setting my alarm and tossing my phone to the side, I allowed myself to sink into a deep sleep. I’d get tonight over with, and before I knew it, I’d be back at Spencer’s for a home cooked meal and a new mindset.
After Avery left,I worked from home for a few hours but had to stop by the office for a couple of meetings. One perk to being an independent sports agent was the flexibility to work from homeoron the road. I lived close to my office in case I needed to pop in from time to time, but more often than not, my work was done from my home office or when I’d travel for clients.
Just as I was about to head home, Jayson called. He wanted to meet up for drinks, and to be honest, I needed his advice. Between last night with Avery, and everything going on with Jackson, I wanted to pick his brain.
When my driver dropped me at the end of West Las Vegas Boulevard, I made my way inside the elegant entrance to the tall golden tower. I had to walk through the casino in order to enter the elevator that would take me sixty-four floors up toSky Bar—a bar on the top floor with panoramic views of the skyline. It was one of the classiest bars on the Strip for drinks and entertainment. Often, the wealthy would meet here and strikeup business deals, or in cases like mine, bitch to their friends about their twenty-four-year-old son and new romantic interest.
Knowing my friend, he’d already gotten two drinks—one for each of us—and would be waiting on the terrace with a spot of the incredible view.
As I weaved my way through the bar and out onto the deck, I spotted a dark flow covered in a backward trucker hat.
Most men around here were dressed in slacks and pressed button ups, but Jayson being Jayson—the best hockey player in town—could get away with his backward hat and dark denim.
“Jay, you better have a cold one on ice for me,” I said, coming up behind him.
My best friend turned around, clapped me on the back, and handed me a bourbon on the rocks. “Of course, man. What’s got your dick so tied up in a knot?”
My eyebrow shot up.
