Dirty Seduction

I stare at the note for a few more seconds and then look at the tip he added to the bill. My eyes widen at the $100 he’s written in. I’m beyond pissed. First, he kisses me this morning, and that’s after he licked my pussy juices off my fingers last night! Then, he tells me how crazy I drive him, and now he’s coming to the restaurant I work at with his gorgeous dates!© 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

Are you fucking kidding me!

Fuck this!

My shift just ended, and I’m done with this place. I grab my purse and head out to my car. I’m so angry that it takes me half the parking lot to remember that my brother begged me to borrow my car tonight. I was going to ask a coworker to drive me home, but there’s no way in hell I’m going back in there. I only live a few miles away, and it’s a nice night. Besides, the walk will help me to cool off. I’m mad enough to not even feel how tired my feet are.

I’ve barely made it a hundred feet down the road when I hear the roar of a very expensive engine. Stepping closer to the ditch, I keep walking, giving them a chance to speed on by, but they don’t. The black Porsche stops right next to me. I look over when I hear the window roll down.

“Ashley, what the hell are you doing?”

I give a frustrated growl when I hear his sexy voice. “I’m walking home!” I yell, not even bothering to look at him.

“Get in the car.”

“Fuck you!” I scream, feeling like a stupid kid when I can no longer stop the tears from coming.

“Please get in the car. I’ll drive you home. I’ll take you wherever you want, but please get in so you’re safe.”

I stop because I’m angry and sad and confused and so fucking tired all of a sudden. I just want to go home and crawl under my covers and never come out. I reach for the door and get in, sinking into the luxurious leather seat. I’m crying harder now, and there’s no way to hide it, so I don’t even try. Whatever. Let him laugh at me if he wants.

“Why are you so angry at me? I’m sorry she was so rude to you. I am-”

I cut him off before he can say another damn word.

“I don’t give a shit if your stupid date hates me! If you want to date such a stuck-up bitch, then that’s your problem. Not mine. I’m pissed at myself. I’ve been such an idiot!”

He doesn’t say anything, just turns off the road and takes us down a short path that leads to a small boat dock and a view of the lake. I try very hard to not watch his hand as he shifts gears. There’s something so fucking sexy about the way he handles the car and knowing he’s never going to be mine breaks my heart into a million painful pieces. He parks and shuts off the engine before angling his body so he can see me better.

“Is that what you think?”

I bury my head in my hands and groan. When he places his large hand on my knee, my body stiffens, but I don’t push him off. I want to crawl into his lap and have him hold me, and I hate that I still want that so badly.

“You were on a date with her, and I get it. I do. You’re so gorgeous, and you could have anyone, and I’m just the stupid virgin who’s been in love with you her whole stupid life. I’m sorry I yelled at you,” I manage to squeak out before I’m sobbing again.

When he leans over and wraps his arms around me, I don’t fight him. I cling to him like my life depends on it and sob as he rubs my back and whispers words in Italian to me. I don’t know what he’s saying, but it’s so damn nice to hear.

He switches to English and says, “How could you ever think I would take someone out on a date after what we shared last night and this morning?”

My voice is shaky and hoarse when I answer. “It just seemed like you were on a date, and then she told me that you guys didn’t want dessert because you were both anxious to get back to your place.”

He says something in Italian, and judging by the harsh tone, it’s not anything nice.

“I would never date her. It was a work dinner, Ashley. She wants something more, but I’ve made it very clear that it’s never going to happen. I can’t stand the woman, and after the way she treated you, I told her I had no interest in doing business with her.”

“You did?” I ask, lifting my head so I can see his face. His dark eyes are looking at me as if I’m something precious to him, and it makes me start crying all over again when I remember how horrible I was to him.

“Hey,” he says, running his thumbs over my cheeks in a useless attempt to dry them as I keep crying. “Why are you crying again?” “Because I yelled at you!” I say with a sob.