He’d grown up in a family of men, the youngest, carefree and reckless. His father had worked long hours, often disappearing into the night, to keep food on the table and a roof over their heads.
Marcus, always the more serious one, raised him, teaching him lessons he’d never learned from their old man.
Male company had been the norm until he turned sixteen and had his dick sucked. At first, it had been exhilarating, but in the end, a huge fucking letdown.
Kirsty Malone was everything a teenage boy could dream of. Long blonde hair cascading past her waist, pouty lips always slathered in sticky gloss.
She was a walking fantasy, but the reality? Not so much.
Girls had always thrown themselves at him. Giggles, sexy little gasps, the way they flaunted their perky tits, then pressed them into his chest.
He soaked it all up. Every touch, every promise, fed into his ego, his hunger.
But Kristy––fuck, she was something else. The wayshe unzipped his jeans and stuffed his dick into her mouth... The sensation was pure heaven.
But once it was over, the aftermath turned into hell.
Kristy was hollow. Empty. With zero conversation or soul in her. Hell, she even squashed a spider with her fist, her face showing no emotion, no understanding of how fucking wrong that was.
There was nothing to keep him going back to her for more. She satisfied him for a moment, and that was it.
He quickly learned girls would chase him and he’d satisfy them. All it took was a single quirk of his lips, and they’d fall in line.
He sauntered across the lobby, his shoes clicking against the polished floors. Stopping in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, he stared out at the quirky coffee shop across the street.
Despite his father’s disappearances being a constant headache for him, today’s ordeal had uncovered something unexpected.
An unknown woman had called him earlier with a husky, seductive tone, and when he found her next to his father outside, a pang of curiosity hit him.
Aside from rescuing his dad, she was stunning.
Absolutely fucking gorgeous.
Messy black hair spilled out from under a purple baseball cap, cascading over her shoulders like a wild, untamed ocean.
The cap, emblazoned with the ‘Coffee Kicks’ logo, shielded piercing blue eyes that seemed to cut through the haze of the morning.
Jamie stared over at the coffee shop, wondering if the piece of hay tucked in her hair and the well-worn, dusty boots meant she was a dirty cowgirl in disguise.
With a bit of time, he knew could persuade her to join him for drinks. She’d be the type who’d fall for the right attention.
Women always loved it when he took charge.
He’d made a sport of watching them squirm, testing how quickly he could stoke the fire between their legs, how far he could push them before they melted into his hands.
God, it was so easy.
The thing was, when he thought of her, his anger over his father’s disappearance seemed to slip away, replaced by a tightening in his chest and a surge of blood to his dick.
His mind drifted, focusing on fantasies that were hard to ignore.
The raven-haired woman, that unruly little barista, was on her knees, gazing up at him with those wide, innocent eyes. Her lips parted, ready to take him in.
Fuck yeah.
He readjusted himself, taking a steadying breath.
For now, his father was safe upstairs, and business was the only thing that mattered. Not the wild little barista.
