Page 111 of Bridesmaid for Hire
“Let’s get one thing straight,” she says.Oh boy, here we go.“I’ll never waste my time faking an orgasm. If you can’t get the job done, then I get it done myself. I’m not here to preserve any fragile man egos.”
Wouldn’t expect it any other way, but…I’m still relieved.
“Oh, yeah, sure.” I nod, glancing down at and concentrating on piercing my pancakes with my fork.
After a few seconds of silence, she adds, “And since it seems like you need to know, that was single-handedly one of the best orgasms of my life. I still felt it when I woke up this morning. Does that satisfy your appetite for morning-after chatter?”
I mean…**brushes shoulder off**
“Yup. Thanks,” I say as my chest warms with pride.
Don’t smile, you dick, she’ll hate you if she sees you smiling.
Remain neutral, you can smile your ass off in the shower later, where she can’t see you. For now, just relish in your studliness, because you gave her the best orgasm she’s ever had.
Good job, you asshole.
So, when I say Maggie doesn’t like to have the morning-after talk, I’m not lying. My question put her in a sour mood.
She’s silent, annoyed, and really not interested in me at all, which, of course, hurts my man feelings. And sure, I should be happy over here, celebrating the fact that I got a taste of her even though it seems like she’s not interested in future encounters. One and done.
Her brother doesn’t have to know. We can move on.
Not even the possibility of an oopsie pregnancy because well, you can’t get pregnant the way she did things.
We’re in the clear.
And yet, I’m irritated that she didn’t hold my hand on the way to the yacht.
I’m frustrated that she’s talked to Haisley more than me this morning.
And I’m feeling all sorts of lonely because the last thing I want to do is sit on this huge, multi-level luxurious yacht in the middle of the most crystal-blue water you have ever seen and try to act like I’m remotely interested in impressing these people. All Iwantto do is hang out in the bungalow with Maggie, being lazy in bed. I want time just with her.
And yet, here we are, once again with the Hoppers.
And suuuurrrre, this is what I’m here for.
But doesn’t make me any less bitter.
Knowing I should be talking to Reginald and his sons, I grumbleunder my breath, lift from where I’m seated at the head of the boat, and I travel toward the back where the men are gathered.
Seems like the perfect time to talk business.
“Hey,” Hardy says in greeting. “Join us.” He holds out a cigar to me.
Gross.
Never smoked one in my life but fake it until you make it, right?
I take the cigar and hold it between my fingers as I say thank you. Maybe I don’t even have to light it. I can just hold it like this, and no one will be the wiser.
“Here,” Reginald says stepping forward with a lighter.Of fucking course. “Light it, smoke it, don’t just hold it.”
“Thanks,” I say as I bring the cigar up to my mouth and try to remember the way my grandpa used to do it. Light and puff.
Reginald lights my cigar and I take a few puffs to help get the flame going, impressed with myself until a wave of smoke flows to the back of my throat, causing me to gag and cough.
Death.
