Raging Hard(132)
I giggled. “Lincoln!”
“I’m going to slide my big cock into your tight little soaked pussy and fuck you rough. I’m going to fuck you until you can’t get the feeling of me out of your mind.”
“We’ll see about that,” I said, looking away but smiling.
“Yeah. We will.”
My heart kept hammering in my chest.
It was definitely him. It was always him.
Chapter Sixteen: Lincoln
I pulled her chair out, playing the perfect gentleman for the cameras. She smiled hugely, clearly beyond excited to be out in public with me, and I smiled back.
“Thanks, Based—I mean, Lincoln.”
“No problem, Misty.”
I watched as she sat down, her big fake boobs pressing against her pink tube top. She wore a white furry cardigan over top, but that barely covered anything. It was clear what she felt her best features were, and she wasn’t shy about showing them off.
I looked away as I limped around the table and sat down. Misty stared at me, grinning this big stupid grin, and I wracked my brain for something to talk about. She had been pretty quiet on the ride over, mostly alternating between gushing about being out on a date with me and staring with this insane look on her face.
I can’t believe I have to be on a whole date with this lunatic
, I thought to myself as the waiter walked over.
“Good evening, sir, madam. Can I tempt you with drinks to start?”
“Yes, please. Dirty martini for me,” Misty said and then looked right at me. “Extra dirty.” She winked.
She seriously winked. I had to stifle an eye roll.
“Very good. And for you, sir?”
I glanced at the menu. “The Japanese whisky, neat.”
“Very good. I will return shortly with your drinks.” He turned on his heel and left.
I sighed, feeling fortunate that my mom had sprung for the private room. Even though I was surrounded by the camera crew, with Jess lurking in the background, at least I didn’t have to suffer through my embarrassing ordeal with a room full of strangers.
“So . . . Based—I mean, Lincoln,” Misty said.
“So, Misty. Let me ask you something.”
“Okay. Ask me anything you want. I’ll tell you absolutely anything.”
I ignored the innuendo. “What do you do for a living?”
She giggled. “Not much really. I design dresses.”
“Who carries them?”
“Nobody yet,” she said. “But Daddy says I have talent.”
I winced. Any adult woman that called her father “daddy” was deeply, deeply damaged. Or maybe I shouldn’t generalize, but it definitely applied in Misty’s case.
“Where do you live?”
“With Daddy still.”
I paused. “How old are you, Misty?”
She smiled. “Twenty-three.”
I had a feeling she was lying, but I wasn’t about to press her on it. I pegged her closer to thirty. The waiter returned with our drinks before I could go back to pulling conversational teeth.
“Are you ready to order, or do you need more time?”
I looked at Misty and she smiled, picking up the menu.
“I’ll have the Caesar salad, no croutons please.”
Of course. We go to one of the most expensive steak houses in the whole area, and she wants to eat a salad. That should be a crime. Someone should seriously show up and throw her out.
If the waiter was as offended as I was, he didn’t show it.
“Very good. And for you, sir?”
“I’ll have the prime rib, medium rare.”
“Very good. I’ll put those in for you right away.”
He took our menus and walked out.
The cameras hovered around us, and I could have sworn I saw the sound guy stifle a yawn. I knew exactly how he felt. Jess made an urgent motion, probably trying to get me to talk. Misty leaned forward on the table, sipping her drink and smiling at me.
“So, Based. What do you like to do?” she asked.
“Please. Call me Lincoln.”
She giggled. “Sorry, I keep forgetting. I can be so silly sometimes.”
“Right. Well, I like to play piano. And pinball sometimes.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? That sounds . . . interesting.”
“Not really. What about you?”
“I love to party. Do you like to party, Lincoln?”
I made a face. Was she fucking serious?
“Sure. I guess.”
I took a sip of the whisky, savoring its smoky flavor. At least the drink was decent. I took another sip, hoping that the warmth would dull the annoying night I was having, when suddenly I almost spit it out. Under the table, I felt the unmistakable sensation of someone’s foot slowly climbing up my pant leg.
I sat up straight, moving away from Misty’s roaming appendage.