This might not have been my best idea yet, but here I was, and I hadn’t yet come up with a way to get out of it. Then again, I hadn’t really tried all that hard.
Forget the fact that it had been my not-so-brilliant idea in the first place. However, as I downed my wine in one gulp, listening to the incessant chatter coming out of this woman’s mouth, I was beginning to rethink the idea. Especially as she continued to talk.
“I’m serious,” she giggled, grinning back at me as though I was the most interesting person in the world. “I read Forbidden on, like, the day it came out, and… Oh. My. God. I had to change the batteries in my vibrator twice.”
Maybe she should use better batteries, I thought, although I knew that wasn’t the point.
Or maybe it was.
Helena was a nice girl, even if the only thing she talked about was me. In fact, she was so enthralled by me, I knew very little about her, other than she was in her late twenties and lived in Austin. I’d met her at a bar downtown one night a few weeks back and we’d hit it off. And by hit it off, I meant we’d come back to my condo and fucked like rabbits on my couch. I won’t lie and say that I’d been all that interested in talking that night. Tonight, not much different.
Although I hadn’t seen her since then, Helena had given me her number, and for some reason, I’d thought it was a good idea to reach out. Call me a dog, but I had called her up with the intention of fucking her again, then sending her on her way. Only, at some point after she’d agreed to come over, dinner had been mentioned—not by me—and the next thing I knew, she was picking up food—and wine, of course, because wine didn’t suck (it definitely sucked)—and bringing it over.
So, technically, the booty call had been upgraded to a date.
And now… Now that I’d pretended to be a gentleman by sharing a meal with her and choking down the wine, I just wanted to strip her naked, fuck her blind, and move on with my life. My dick was still interested in her, but I feared the more she talked, the less that would be true.
Not to mention, if she kept rattling on about my books, I was going to pull out another bottle of wine and double fist it until I felt better. Or better yet, I’d pull out the Ketel One and go to town on it.
“That was great, Jakey,” Helena said, wiping her mouth as she eyed me. “I love Italian food. Remember that scene in your book…? Oh, crap. I can’t remember which one … but it was when Paul teased Theresa…”
Oh, I remembered, but I was still hung up on the fact that she had taken to calling me Jakey. I hated that she called me that, but sometimes, when it came to a guaranteed sexual encounter, as long as you could maintain an erection for longer than a minute … well, you just fucking learned to deal.
I refilled my wineglass, draining the bottle.
“Come on,” I urged, pushing back my chair and getting to my feet. “Let’s go in the living room.”
Helena smiled up at me, then grabbed her glass and got to her feet. “Have I told you how much I love this place? It’s so elegant, so tastefully done. And that lamp is cool.”
That was something she should’ve been telling my decorator because truth was, I wasn’t all that fond of the décor. In fact, I fucking hated it. Since I’d moved into the place nearly a year ago, I’d been contemplating changing it up, only I’d always found a reason to put that off, just like I put off everything these days.
Namely writing.
Hence, the reason Helena was here.
Personally, I considered it research. Since I was known for some of my over-the-top sex scenes, it never hurt to get a little wild and crazy with the freaky ones. And yes, Helena definitely qualified as freaky. If I remembered correctly, she was rather limber. Or double-jointed. Or both.
My mind instantly conjured up an image of the woman I’d met at the coffee shop that morning. The one with the coral hair and smoky gray eyes. I suddenly wondered if she was freaky. Between the tattoos and the piercings, it was easy enough to assume.