The Bad Boy Wants Me(13)

‘He doesn’t,’ my mouth blurts out before my brain can get into gear.

‘What?’ she explodes, her eyes popping open.

‘Um … he has a big dick.’

‘And you know this because?’

‘He had an erection and I saw it through his jeans,’ I confess.

‘Oh Lord. Just get your condoms ready, OK?’

‘You should have more faith in me.’

‘I do. There is merit to my strategy. Good looking and a big dick means he’s definitely a lousy lover. You’ll be wanting to be rid of him sooner than you think.’

Not if his kiss is anything to go by. Fortunately I’m not dumb enough to voice this particular thought.

‘So when are you seeing him next?’ she asks, picking up her bowl again and spooning another mouthful of cereal into her mouth.

‘Tomorrow. He’s throwing a pool party. Britney is all excited about it because Taylor Swift is coming.’

‘Hmmm. Do you think you can swing an autograph for my sister?’



That evening Cash doesn’t turn up for chicken pie. I eat my dinner without tasting it, and wonder if Leah might have been totally wrong. There will be no need for condoms at all because Cash has already lost interest in me.





Chapter Seven


Cash

Hunter by name and hunter by nature.

Goddamn. She’s something else. My head’s reeling and the blood is pounding so hard in my dick I feel like pulling over to the side of the road and fucking taking care of it myself, but I don’t need to see grainy pictures of me jacking off in my car on the evening news. Been there. Done that. And I definitely don’t need Octavia breathing hot air down my neck again about imaging, branding, target audience, or urban cool.

Nope.

Still? Tori fucking Diamond, eh?

My little sister’s PA. Who’d have thought she’d be the hottest thing to cross my path in a long, long time? She’s so hot she’s bouncing with it. And that attitude of hers. Talk about a badass mouth. I can already see it full of my dick.

And my, my, what a sweet picture that is.

I was a walking zombie this morning. I’d been up all night partying hard and all I wanted to do was go back and crash in my own bed. Yeah, I know, it’s called a hedonistic lifestyle.

But as Fate would have it, I’m driving down the road when I spot the Bentley with Victor cooling his heels in the driver’s seat. On Harley street? There’s only one scenario: Britney was up to no good again. Believe me, I fucking cuss the air blue, but I stop and go in, and there she is like a long, cool drink on a hot day. Blonde hair down to her waist and the ass on that bird. It’s one of the reasons I still believe in miracles.

Oh, yeaaaaah.

If a jaw ever dropped … but damn if she didn’t look at me as if I was a bit of chewing gum stuck to the bottom of her shoes. It made me want to rip the clothes off her back and give it to her right there.

You see, when every woman you meet can’t wait to choke on your dick and lays it all out on a silver platter for you, you start to yearn for the woman who throws you a bit of shade. You miss the buzz of a chase. You wish someone would resist you. Everyone wants a piece of Cash. She doesn’t. That makes her fucking precious.

I just had to break off a little piece of that Kit Kat.

I chased her all the way to my father’s house and right into my old bathroom. So she’s naked and in the bath and giving me all the sass, but I catch her staring at my dick like a starving animal looking at a fuckin’ feast.

I don’t know. Maybe she never saw a dick so big, but fucking hell I could have roasted a pig in the bonfire in her eyes.

You gotta respect a contradiction like that!

I mean, one minute she’s slaying you with her tongue and giving you spicy ass attitude, next moment she’s looking at your junk like it should be registered on the endangered species list. It’s a challenge and an invitation, but in my case it’s a red rag to a bull.

Tori Diamond just put hunt back into Hunter and poured a little bit more awesome sauce on to my already fantastically awesome life.

I glance at the speedometer. 102 MPH.

There are no speed cameras on this stretch of the road so I lean on the accelerator and revel in the rush of watching my metal baby eat up tarmac at incredible speed. Music is blasting from the stereo and adrenaline is coursing in my veins. The high is unbelievable. This is my life. Money, pussy, and speed.

What else is there, anyway?





Chapter Eight


Tori

A cousin of mine who once won a minor beauty pageant used to say real beauty requires hard work and discipline. I didn’t truly know what she meant until I go shopping with Britney.

We spend hours looking for the right dress. She tries on what seems like a hundred different outfits in at least thirty shops. She twirls in front of me in dresses that are, quite frankly stunning, and decides that they make her grasshopper long legs look stumpy and fat or her augmented and perfect 32C chest look flat and blah.