“Who?” she asked like a dummy. Could I blame her? I’d been in her shoes a few minutes ago. “Oh you mean, Gabi, my boss. She’s amazing. Don’t let the attitude fool you. It’s a protective—”
“Zoey,” I ground her name under my teeth, my eyes bulging.
“O-okay. Nice to meet you, Fab.” She cleared her throat, touching his arm awkwardly as she led him out. “Thank you for visiting. Do that again. Daily. Please.”
“I might do just that, Zoey.” He winked at her, and then he gave me his crooked smile. “Gabi.”
CHAPTER 4
Fabio
“Who the hell does she think she is?” I poured my heart out to Tiara as I walked into my apartment.
My five-pound Yorkie barked in response, wagging her little tail. I dropped the laundry bag and carried the little thing in my arms, scratching behind her ear. “Who cares about Lady Brighton when you’re here? Who’s my good girl?”
Two barks.
“Yes, you are, tesoro mio. I missed you, too.” I kissed the top of her head and put her down. She sniffed around the laundry bag and then my sneakers. “Si, it’s a new place I’ve never been before.” And a new woman that got her smell all over my thongs when she went through my stuff, and some of that elegant, expensive perfume lingered on me when we had our conversation at the door. “But don’t bother memorizing it. I won’t be going there again.”
She barked again, tilting her little head to the side in question.
“Because she doesn’t like me.”
“Woof,” she squeaked.
“I know!”
She followed me as I took my clothes off on the way to the bathroom, leaving a bread-crumb trail. “I’ll never be your client, Mr. Zappa.” I mocked her voice. It wasn’t high-pitched. An alto with a hot rasp that was quite the surprise coming from a sexy librarian with glasses and a bad bra. Most of my nights I was surrounded by a hundred women with high-pitched screams. Her voice was a soothing remission. The kind I could picture whisper dirty nothings for days.
Shit, I was hard again, thinking about all the naughty things she’d have asked me to do to her in that sultry voice after I’d unbuttoned her shirt and peeled off her pencil skirt.
I kicked off my sweatpants, ran the hot water and waited for it to become actually hot. One of the banes of living in New York. Back home in Chicago, at my parents’ house, life was simpler and easier. Until it wasn’t.
The steam built up, and I could feel it in my pores, unwinding my tired muscles after a night of dancing my ass off and a morning of heavy workouts. Those babies wouldn’t build or grow themselves.
Scalding hot water was the only way I could feel clean after having bills shoved down my pants or having my cock buried into some MILF. And the only way to get the fucking glitter off my skin.
I scrubbed my face and neck and ass, knowing how hard it was to get rid of this shit. Glitter was the worst STD of the makeup world.
Tiara squeaked again as she waited for me on the bathroom floor. I peeked from the shower curtain. “Sup, girl? Wanna join?”
She got up on all fours and wiggled her tail.
I glanced at my hard-on that wouldn’t go away. “Do you promise not to look?”
A rough bark.
“You’re right. I don’t know why I can’t stop getting hard, thinking about a woman who sees me as aboy. Had she looked at the goods, like her secretary did, she’d have known I was no boy.” My cock pulsed in my fist. “I bet if this boy bends her over her desk and lifts that goddamn skirt, he’ll make her scream Figaro.”
“Woof, woof!”
“You’re so naughty, but you’re right again. I really need to take care of that. Perdona, Tesoro mio.” I shut the curtain and lathered up. Then I replayed my interaction with Gabriella. Frowny, judgey Gabi.
She was so fucking judgey. Despite what she said about having nothing against my jobs, I knew she was lying.
I should punish her for that by spanking that perfect, pretty ass. No. Not pretty. Not pretty at all. Her soft, long hair wasn’t pretty either and didn’t smell oh so fucking good. I wouldn’t want that draping over me as she bounced on my dick or twist it and pull hard as her red lips sucked me off. Her big blue eyes wouldn’t make me shoot my load down her throat when she looked up at me behind those librarian glasses, and her cheeks turned deep pink.
I groaned into the gathering steam, the metallic New York water whirling suds and glitter, as I held tight to the memory of the woman that didn’t want me. The first to reject me since I took my braces off.
